#radio free trashmouth

[corroded-hellfire]

Offline Meeting - Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Gamer!Steve and gamer!reader have played online together for months, and they finally get the chance to meet in person at a gaming convention.

Note: I have to preface this by saying I am not a gamer whatsoever, My extent of gaming is The Sims. So, I had to enlist the help of @inourtownofhawkins, @trashmouth-richie, and @munson-blurbs! I hope my writing reflects all the wonderful help they gave me. Also, I know there's no such place as the "Orlando Convention Center" for any Floridians reading this, but I figured if I said "Orange County" people would assume California lol. I definitely channeled a bit of Keys from Free Guy for this as well. And a very special thankful to @trashmouth-richie for making the lovely text graphic for me! Finally, this fic is dedicated to my lovely wifey @inourtownofhawkins 💕

Warnings: my poor attempt at pretending to know about gaming, video game violence, smut, p in v, minors DNI, language, i think that's it?

Words: 6k

It’s easy to fall in love with the idea of falling in love. It’s easy to fall in love with the idea of a person. And when the only way you communicate is through social media or gaming, it’s easy to only see the good parts of someone and pretend there’s nothing bad. You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop with Steve. Or ready for him to find something that he doesn’t like about you which will make him stop talking to you. So, when he tells you that he got a ticket to come to the gaming con that you’re attending in a few weeks, conflicting feelings come up. 

At first, you’re ecstatic that you’re going to see Steve. The two of you have talked so much about wishing you lived closer together so you could spend time with someone who understands how you feel about gaming in real life. Online is great, but you both know in person is better. But the more you thought about hanging out with Steve in real life, the more caught up in your head you got about it. What if he didn’t like you in person? What if he only liked you when he had the ability to log off? 

You’ve been talking for over nine months now, ever since you met in the lobby for both of your favorite game, Upside Down House. The two of you made a great team in the game, trying to defend a small family home from a Demogorgon that pops out of walls all over the house. Steve’s weapon of choice was always a bat, and he would stun them so you could take them out with a shotgun. You made such a good duo and had such fun playing together that you’d decided to voice chat with one another while playing, and even led to exchanging social medias and connected on discord. 

Talking to Steve was the highlight of your day. Finishing your classes for the day, you’d crash in your dorm and grab your headset, praying he was online as well. Messaging each other throughout the day just wasn’t the same. You wanted to hear his voice, play alongside him. Whenever you’d successfully beat a level, he’d become so happy and giddy that it would make your stomach flutter with the force of a hundred butterflies. The worst part of your day was always when your roommate would come back to your room, and you’d have to log off for the night so she could get some sleep. Steve would still chat with you through discord, but again, it wasn’t the same not hearing his voice. He was always your first and last text of the day. 

As the con gets closer, Steve talks more and more about how excited he is. You are too, but you’re also filled with more anxiety and worry. Begging your roommate to take you shopping for a new outfit and teach you how to do your makeup, you start to gain a little bit more confidence in seeing Steve. 

When you wake up the day of the con, a smile sticks to your face and there’s a bounce in your step. The whole drive over to the convention center you’re dancing along to the radio in your car, simultaneously dreaming about seeing Steve and trying not to think about it at the same time. You’d know his face anywhere, even having never seen it in person, and you wonder what your immediate reaction will be when your eyes land on him. 

The traffic for parking at Orlando Convention Center is backed up all the way to highway 528, and you start to get jittery as you wait in the line of cars. He’s probably already there, you think to yourself. Is he already inside? Is he excited to see you? Is he nervous? Is he already having too much fun and forgot he’s even going to be seeing you?

Your palms are sweating by the time you park your car outside Concourse A. The hot Florida sun doesn’t help you as you walk across the crowded parking lot. The line to get in feels like it takes forever, and you’re convinced you’re going to throw up all the butterflies that have been swirling around inside of you. 

Once you’ve got your badge around your neck, you dodge cosplayers – telling yourself you’ll admire them later – and pull out your phone to shoot a message to Steve.

The thirty seconds it takes to get a reply feel like an eternity.

For the first time in your twenty-something years it feels like you’ve forgotten how to walk. Shoes stumble over one another, the solid slab floor is somehow sucking your feet in like quicksand. Bumbling through the crowd, your eyes scan the faces around you for the brown eyes that melt your heart every time you see them on your phone’s screen. For that hair that tempts you to run your fingers through it more than you ever wanted to touch anything in your life. 

Right in the middle of a large crowd, your sneakers squeak to a halt, annoying the people around you and forcing them to go around. Steve’s there, in person, in the same space as you. He hasn’t spotted you yet, craning his neck to look over people, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Perfect isn’t a word you’d ever prescribed to anyone before, but it’s surely how Steve looks just standing there. His jeans are slightly too big, hanging low on his hips, and his navy t-shirt framing his broad shoulders in the most flattering way. 

All thoughts leave your head as Steve turns his head and locks eyes with you. Absolutely frozen to the spot, the growing grin on his face is the only thing that breaks you out of your trance. He takes a step towards you, and you find yourself barreling towards him as well. How were you supposed to greet him? Handshake? Hug? Awkwardly standing there and saying hi? Steve makes the choice for you as he grabs you and pulls your body against his. Positive that he can feel your heart thrumming against his chest, your arms cling around his neck and hold onto him like you’ll never let him go. And you don’t want to.

“Finally,” Steve says as you reluctantly pull away from one another. 

“It’s so good to see you. For real.” Without thinking about it, your hand comes up and cups the side of his face. He leans into your touch and your heart soars into your throat. You let your hand drop from his face and he’s quick to pick it up in his own hand. Steve’s thumb rubs along the back of your hand and it sends tingles up your spine. 

“There’s a panel on Upside Down House in half an hour,” he tells you. “And after that there’s a Junkyard Babysitter tournament in the next hall and the winner gets an Xbox gift card. I already signed us up.”

“Oh, you’re so good at that game! The prize is as good as yours.”

Steve gives you a bashful smile and it sets every nerve in your body on fire. He gives a small tug on your hand and starts to head for the doors.

“Come on, let’s go get some seats for the panel.”

It turns out that you and Steve could’ve run that panel. You were both just as knowledgeable about the game as the hosts, could have easily answered all the questions that were asked by fellow panelists, and even managed to give tips and insight that no one else in the room had. 

“So, when the trail of lights leads you right up to the front door, that’s a decoy. You have to head to the left because that’s where the Demogorgon pops out from.”

“The fire trap in the hallway is great for distracting! But it won’t kill him on its own. You’ve got to use another weapon too.”

Once the panel is over, you and Steve get seats next to each other at the tournament. The room fills fairly quickly so you and Steve have a short chat about strategy. Your character would take cover in the hollowed-out school bus in the junkyard, and Steve’s character would hide behind the junked cars surrounding the area as he makes his way towards the dangerous center. It’s a play you’ve both used before, so you have a fair amount of confidence in it. 

There are about twenty people in this tournament, but you don’t look at any of them around the room. Only Steve. He gives you a reassuring nod before the game starts, then both of your characters are running to their respective locations you agreed upon. Six characters are brought down upon the initial onslaught. Fourteen left. 

“Behind you,” you tell Steve. His character spins around in time to take down the other player with his trusty baseball bat. The back door of the bus is being caved in, so your character picks up the closest weapon – which is a flamethrower – and waits for the intruder to be in sight. 

“There’s two out there,” Steve warns you as he sneaks his character over to get a better view of the bus. Your character lifts the flamethrower and aims it right where you’re expecting the others’ heads to be. The metal is finally bashed in, and the flamethrower takes both characters down with one burst of flame. You climb the ladder that’s in the middle of the bus, not high enough to stick your head out the top, but enough to be better prepared for an ambush. 

That ambush arrives when three players jump on top of the bus, circling you on the ladder below.

“Shit.”

Steve’s quick to get his character to the rescue, though. The first thing he does once he’s on the roof is knock one of the three players inside the bus so you can take care of him no problem. Your flamethrower gets the job done. Hiking it over your shoulder, you keep a tight grip on the flamethrower as you climb the ladder to join Steve and the other two on the roof. The player closest to you doesn’t know you’ve come up behind him, so you take advantage and kick his legs out from underneath him, and when he’s lying flat on his back, you pull the trigger. 

“Damn it!”

Steve’s frustrated call has you turning to look at his character, but it’s already too late. The other player is steadily draining his life force and even if you killed him now, Steve’s character would still die. But you go for it anyway. You run at the other player to get as much momentum as you can and ram him off the bus roof. Both he and Steve’s characters die, fading from the playing field. 

Your character climbs down the ladder into the bus for safety, but grabs Steve’s discarded bat when she does. The bottom right corner of your screen tells you that there’s only five players left. They’re out there, either hiding like you, or getting into fights. Your character slowly makes her way to the broken back door of the bus and peeks out. It looks like there’s someone hiding in the bushes closest to the bus. Gripping your controller tight, you have your character swap out her weapons for a shotgun. You always have the best aim with these. Your character crawls to the very edge of the bus and balances on one knee, holding the shotgun up just right to get the target in the viewfinder. With a squeeze of the trigger, the total number of players has gone down to four. Sticking the shotgun and bat in your bag, you carry the flamethrower as you make your way to the other end of the bus. There’s no one visible from the dirty and cracked windows, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t near. 

There’s movement from behind one of the rusty old cars. Another player must have noticed this too because there’s the sound of a shot before the screen is letting you know there are three players remaining. Feeling like a sitting duck, you slip out the back way of the bus and slowly creep around to the hood. Head on the swivel, your character’s back is pressed against the cool yellow metal, and she attempts to make the quietest footfalls possible. 

“Oh, shit! Do you know who that is?” It’s spoken somewhere in the room around you, loud enough that you hear it even with your full concentration on the screen in front of you. 

“Whoa,” Steve says. Your eyes dart to him and are back on the screen in the next instant. 

“What’s going on?” you ask.

In the game, you see one player sneak out of a trunk of one of the cars. It’s one of the worst places to hide because it’s so obvious when you come out of it and the hinges squeak constantly while they’re being moved. You line up your flamethrower and have it positioned just right on your shoulder when a rusty pipe impales the character, leaving the remaining number of players at two.

“It’s Patrice Harlan,” Steve tells you. Your eyes almost bug out of your head.

“The Patrice Harlan? The guy who has won thousands and thousands of dollars by being incredible at these types of games?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a sigh. Patrice was all over the gaming forums, known as one of the all-time best. He was one of the lucky ones who made a successful career from his gaming. This was seriously impacting your confidence.

“I got this,” you tell yourself, sounding much surer than you feel. Your character searches for Patrice’s character. You’re the only ones left. Taking slow, deliberate steps, your character comes around the front of the bus and darts to hide behind a pile of tires. By the sounds in the junkyard, you know Patrice’s character is getting closer. Depending on how close he got or from what angle would determine which weapon would be the most efficient here. 

Footsteps boom over to your character. This is it. He has to be right on the other side of the tires. Close proximity. You quickly switch out your weapons until your character is holding Steve’s bat. Your avatar stands up and comes face to face with Patrice’s avatar. She’s smaller than him but that could also come with some perks. Your character grips the bat right in her hand, and using her compact size, crouches down and springs up, jumping high enough to land on the pile of tires. From the vantage point, it’s the perfect place to go for the kill shot. You have her raise the bat up over her head, and as you jump down from the pile she cracks Patrice’s avatar straight down the middle of the skull, causing him to fall flat on his back. Always one to take precautions, you have your character swap out for the shotgun and fire it into the avatar’s chest, sealing the deal. 

You won.

The room goes crazy. Steve’s pulling you out of your seat, cupping your face with his hands before he pulls you in for a bone crushing hug that you don’t mind one bit. Other players pat you on the back and offer their congratulations as they walk by. But then you see him. Patrice Harlan. He’s even taller in person than he is online, his buzzed blonde hair catching the bright lights in the room. You’re afraid he’s going to be intimidating, but he walks over to you with a smile and offers you a friendly handshake. It feels insane. To just have beaten a professional to be the champion of one of your favorite games. 

The head of the tournament bestows you with your Xbox gift card and you instantly put it in your wallet for safekeeping. 

After all the excitement of the win dies down, you turn to Steve and find him looking at you a bit differently. You raise an eyebrow as you take a step towards him. 

“You good?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says. His eyes are so dark and the look he’s giving you is not one anyone has ever given you before. It’s not unpleasant, though. “That was, um… Wow. That was really…”

“Yes, really what?” you ask, trying to help him along.

“Really hot,” Steve says, catching you by surprise. Your face flares up and you give your head a shake. 

“All I did was win a video game,” you say.

“Yeah, but you pretty much beat the best of the best. And it’s really turning me on,” Steve adds with a laugh. The heat in your face dials up but you allow Steve to take your hand in his again. 

Steve holds onto your hand the rest of the day. Only when the occasion absolutely called for it did he let you go, only to intertwine your fingers together again as soon as he could. Through every panel, strolling through the marketplace, even eating dinner together, he keeps his soft hold on you. Even though it’s been going on for hours, your tummy is still in the most pleasant knots possible as you feel his warm skin against yours. 

As the con winds down for the day, you’re starting to dread saying goodbye to Steve. Even if it’s only until tomorrow. But after spending such an amazing day with him, leaving his side for even a moment sounds like torture. 

“So, uh, which way is your car? My hotel is that way.” Steve points in the general direction where there are at least four hotels practically on top of each other. 

“I’m parked right here. I can give you a ride,” you say.

Steve slides into the passenger's seat and the drops of sweat on his forehead make you chuckle as you put on your seatbelt. 

“Not used to this hot weather, huh?”

“And the sun isn’t even out anymore,” Steve says, gesturing to the dark sky. 

“Welcome to Florida.”

You pull out of the convention center parking and turn down I-Drive to get to the hotels.

“What’s the temperature back home?” you ask him.

“Uh, lemme see.” He picks up his phone and swipes to the weather app. “In Hawkins it is currently 62 degrees.”

“Shit, add at least twenty to that here. Maybe twenty-five.” It’s too quick before you pull into the hotel parking lot. You’re not ready to say goodnight. “What’s Hawkins like?”

You’ve both talked about your hometowns with each other before, but you’re grasping at straws to spark a conversation to extend your time together. Even if it’s only five more minutes.

“It’s small,” he says. “Pretty boring little town.” 

“And not as warm as here,” you say.

“Jesus Christ, no,” Steve says with a laugh. He licks over his lips and glances down at his lap. When he looks back at you, he looks nervous. “Do you, um, want to come in? I-I mean we could play a game or something.”

Or something. You want the something.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

The walk to Steve’s room is quiet; both of you riddled with nerves and anticipation. He unlocks the door and lets you in first, like a gentleman. You take in the room as you walk in. It’s a little messy, suitcase open and items strewn about the small space. The temperature is cool, but it makes sense that he’d keep the room like this since he’s so unused to the heat outside. There’s a king bed and your eyes can’t seem to stay off of it for more than a moment at the time. A chair sits at a small table in the corner, but you perch yourself on the edge of the bed, hoping that signals to Steve what you want without you having to say it out loud. 

Steve rubs at the back of his neck and tosses his room key down the counter that’s supporting the television. 

“So, uh, what do you want to do?” he asks. 

“You” doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer to give, even if it’s true. 

“Watch a movie?” you suggest. 

“Sure.” Steve grabs the remote and you kick off your shoes, scooting up to the top of the bed. He joins you, shoulder pressed up against yours, and flips through the channels to see what’s on. Just sitting next to him on the bed like this has your nerves burning in excitement. 

He settles on some movie with weird alien creatures but you’re not paying attention. The heat radiating off Steve’s body is all you can focus on. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and your eyes lock onto his lips. They look so soft and such a pretty shade of pink. Steve reaches up and rubs at his eye, which has you now staring at his hands. His fingers are long, and you know they must be skilled from all the video games he plays. 

Trying to relieve some of the ache that’s growing between your legs, you shift on the bed, squeezing your thighs together and it causes you to bump your shoulder against Steve’s. The contact makes you feel like you've swallowed a fistful of pop rocks; tingly and jumpy from the inside out. Steve looks over at you and your traitorous eyes drop down to his mouth. He licks over his lips again – this time on purpose you think – and you know he clocks the way your breath hitches. A smirk comes to those beautiful rosy lips, and you find yourself leaning in closer to him. 

Steve reaches up and cups the side of your face in his hand, leaning the rest of the way to press his mouth against yours. The kiss starts off soft, lips dancing against one another, careful and timid. A small moan breaks from the back of your throat and it gives Steve the courage to swipe his tongue against your upper lip. You open your lips to him and lower yourself down to the pillows, tangling your fingers in his hair to bring him with you. 

Goosebumps spread up your arms as Steve licks his way into your mouth and the kiss goes from shy to exploring. His hand rests on your hip and he lets out a whine as you suck on his bottom lip. Steve slots a leg between yours, which you gladly spread for him, but you want to let out a frustrated whimper when his thigh isn’t close enough to grind your hips against. 

When you give a small, experimental tug to Steve’s hair, he moans into your mouth and bucks his hips against yours. You smile in satisfaction against him, and he pulls back to look down at your gleeful face.

“I could feel that smile,” he tells you, making you giggle and shrug your shoulders innocently. “You like teasing me, huh?”

“Me teasing you?” You pout. “You need to hike your thigh up about four inches.”

Steve looks down at where his leg is, then four inches up. His playful smirk somehow turns you on even more. 

“What? You want to rut against my leg?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whine. 

“Such an impatient girl,” he says as he leans in for another kiss. This one is quick and sweet. “I’ll take care of you if you want me to.”

You nod your head, eyes falling closed as you do. He gently taps your cheek until you open your eyes.

“Words, sweetheart. I need you to use your words.”

“Want you in me,” you rush out in a breath. 

“Fuck,” Steve mumbles, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Steve. Please.”

“Who am I to say no to that?” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose before getting up and rummaging through his suitcase. There’s a condom wrapped in its shiny foil in Steve’s hand as he comes back to the bed.

“You always carry those on you or were you expecting this to happen?” you tease. 

“I was hopeful,” he admits with a shrug. “Knew I wanted it to happen. Was praying you did too.”

“Of course I did.” You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair again. “I should warn you that I don’t have a lot of experience, though.”

“Me neither,” Steve admits. “But fuck, I want to learn your body.”

You pull him back down against your lips, and your hands slide from his hair all the way down to his belt. Tongues tangling, you nimbly unfasten the silver buckle and move on to the button of his jeans. Steve’s hands come to slide up your stomach, gliding underneath the material of your shirt. His thumbs trace the skin just below your breasts and it makes your hands stutter over his zipper. 

Steve kicks his jeans off his legs before helping you yank your shirt over your head. His mouth instantly attaches to your neck, biting and sucking and trying to find the most sensitive spot to drive you wild. Fingers grasping at his shirt, you tug it up as high as you can before Steve breaks the contact with your skin just to get it off. He goes right back to his work though, making sure you’re going to have the best hickey he’s ever given. Your jeans are next to come off, both of you working in tandem to rid the denim from your body. Now you’re left in only your bra and panties, Steve in his boxers. 

Tangling your fingers in his irresistible soft brown tresses once again, you wrap your legs around Steve’s and pull his hips down to press against yours. Both of you moan as his clothed cock brushes over your panty-clad core.

“Eager, huh?” Steve pants out against your neck. 

“You have no idea,” you sigh out, letting your eyes slip closed.

“Think I do,” Steve says between swiping his tongue repeatedly over your pulse point. “Wanted you since I first heard your voice. Sounded so fucking hot.”

He rocks his hips against yours, wetness pooling between your legs. The soft whimpers you let out only egg him on.

“Then I saw a picture of you on your Instagram,” Steve says. “Fuck, made me so hard.”

“D-Did you touch yourself to it?” Even to your own ears, your voice sounds wholly wrecked.

“Touched myself every time I opened your Instagram, baby.” His kisses trail up to behind your ear and an involuntary shiver runs down your body. “Thinking about getting you in this position. Getting you all worked up and panting beneath me. Making you beg me to touch you.”

“Fuck, please touch me,” you cry out. Steve smirks against your skin and trails his hand down to the waistband of your panties. 

“I’d rip these if they weren’t so sexy,” he says, finger dipping just inside the black lace. “But maybe I’ll just take them home with me instead.”

Steve sits up and you whine as his body warmth and weight is taken away. He quickly slips your panties off though, and the coolness hitting your wet center has you shifting your hips. When you look up at him, Steve’s eyes are almost entirely black, that beautiful brown totally consumed. His gaze is hungry, and you take advantage of his gaze to slowly strip yourself of your bra. You notice the catch in his breath as you toss the matching black lace garment off the side of the bed. Fully naked below him, he scans his eyes up and down your body, taking in every little detail of your bare skin. It’s a bit scary, being so vulnerable with him, but Steve’s never made you feel anything less than special. 

“Jesus, you’re perfect,” Steve says quietly. He quickly sheds himself of his boxers, leaving your mouth watering as you eye his impressive cock. Even though you don’t have a ton of experience with sex, you’re still confident in saying Steve is big. His cheeks turn a pale shade of pink as you take the entirety of his beauty in and when your eyes come back up to his, he flops down next to you, making you giggle. He shoots you a devastating smile as his large hands reach out and pull your body on top of his. 

“Can I put my mouth on you, baby?” you ask Steve softly. He lets out a guttural groan from the back of his throat and his eyes squeeze closed. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh, precum pooling between your skin and his. 

“Shit, I want that so bad,” he rasps. “But there’s no way I’d last, and I want to be in you.”

“I want you in me, too,” you say in between kisses to his throat. “I’ll just have to suck you off later.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh as his hand blindly reaches for the condom next to you on the bed.

“You keep talking like that and I won’t last long either.”

Pushing yourself up to sit on his thighs, you pluck the condom from his hands and rip open the wrapper. Eyes focused on the small foil package, you don’t notice Steve’s hand slipping down until his fingers are gliding through your folds. A gasp escapes you and you drop the condom on Steve’s chest, making him smirk in self-satisfaction. His middle finger brushes over your clit and your hips buck forward.

“Feel good, baby?” Steve coos. “Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me?”

“Yes, Steve,” you let out in a breathy moan. “Had me wet for you all day.”

“Only fair since I’ve been half hard all day,” Steve muses. “And when you beat Harlan this afternoon? God, I wanted to fuck you right then and there.” 

Unable to form words, you just nod as a whine leaves you. Fingers scramble along Steve’s skin until you find the condom again. It’s hard to concentrate slipping it on Steve’s cock as his hand keeps sliding from your clit to your fluttering hole.

Steve’s dick twitches as you roll the condom on, and he removes his hand from between your legs. You want to whine at the loss, but you lift yourself up to line him up with your entrance. The head catches against your hole and you feel your abdominal muscles tighten in pleasure. Moving slowly, you start to lower yourself, his length stretching you in a way you’ve never experienced before. Your eyes shut as the sting quickly switches to pleasure, your walls adjusting to fit his size.

“Fuck,” Steve groans out, eyes rolling back in his head.

An exhale leaves your lungs as you finally take him in up to the hilt. Fully seated on him, you need to still yourself to let your body accommodate the welcome intrusion. 

“Steve, you’re so big,” you whine. His cock twitches inside of you at your words and it makes you bite down on your bottom lip.

“You feel like heaven, baby,” Steve says. His breathing is labored and his hands grip at your hips tightly, anchoring himself. “So warm and tight for me. Fuck, so wet too. Can feel you dripping on my balls.”

“Make me feel so full. S’so good.”

Your hips begin to rock against Steve, planting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. It’s obvious Steve is holding back, lip caught between his teeth and his eyes screwed shut. His thumbs are digging so hard into your hip bones that you know you’re going to have two small black and blue marks tomorrow. 

When you moan out a string of Steve’s name over and over, he can’t keep his composure anymore and fucks his hips up into you. You let out a whimper as he reaches impossibly deep inside of you.

“Shit, s-sorry,” Steve says.

“No, don’t be,” you answer. “W-Want you to feel good. Want you to do what you want.”

Steve snakes an arm around your waist and uses his other arm to push himself up, his back smacking against the headboard. Now you’re seated more comfortably in his lap and your clit has a better angle to rub against his pubic bone. 

“Fuck, Steve.” You speed up your hips, trying to get him to rock up into you. His hand sneaks up to grab at your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as you drop your head back in ecstasy. “Harder.”

The restraint Steve was barely holding on to snaps and his hips buck up against yours, driving his cock deeper and faster inside of you. Muscles in your lower body tightening, you drop your head forward to rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“Close, baby,” you speak against his skin.

“Me too – fuck – me too.” 

As his hips piston into you, you grind yourself down harder, letting your clit rub deliciously against his body. You feel yourself teetering towards the edge and the clenching of your walls around him has Steve seeing stars.

Screaming out Steve’s name, your vision fills with white as you come hard all over his cock. The prettiest whines leave Steve’s mouth as he orgasms right along with you, twitching inside of you as he fills the condom. 

Both of you need a moment to catch your breath, and you lift your head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. Steve’s lips quirk up in a satisfied smile and the pair of you let out a soft laugh at the same time.

“That was…holy shit, that was amazing,” Steve says.

“So fucking good,” you agree. 

His hand cups your face and he brings you in for a tender kiss on the lips, the softness making you melt after your earth shattering orgasm. You feel in complete bliss as you lean against Steve’s chest, letting him wrap you up in his arms. He nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle at the tickle you feel as his eyelashes brush over your cheek.

“You really gonna take my panties home with you?” you ask.

“If that’s okay with you,” he says with a peck to your lips.

“As long as I get to keep something of yours.” 

“I’d offer you a hoodie, but I doubt you’d ever wear it in this sauna of a state,” he says, making you laugh.

“How about a t-shirt I can sleep in?” you offer.

“Perfect.” 

You ease yourself off of Steve’s lap, both of you hissing as he slips out of you. He pulls off the condom, ties it up, and gets up to toss it in the trash. Eyes tracking him as he moves around the hotel room, you lay back on the bed and admire how the thin sheen of sweat is making him glow in the dim lamplight. When he looks back to you, you raise your arms to show him that you want him to come back to you for cuddles. 

“Two seconds,” Steve says, slipping into the bathroom. The fact that he takes longer than that makes you pout, arms dropping back down to the bed. He steps back into the room carrying a washcloth and wearing the cutest pair of glasses you’ve ever seen.

“Well, hello,” you say in a flirty tone as he comes over to you. He smiles as he places the warm cloth at the apex of your thigh.

“I think I squeezed my eyes shut too tight before,” he explains with a shrug as he gently cleans you up. “Moved my contact and it was bugging me.”

“They’re hot.” He rolls his eyes at your words, and you frown. “I’m not teasing. I mean it.”

Steve stops his movements, looking up at you and raising his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Really,” you assure him. A shy smile comes to his lips as he tosses the used cloth towards the bathroom.

“When we go for round two, want me to wear them as I eat that pretty pussy out?”

His words have heat shooting straight down to your core, said pussy already ready for him again. 

“As long as you wear them while I blow you.”

“Fuck, I’m so glad I came to see you.”

[trashmouthrecords]

You don't want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware I'm tearing you asunder. Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts. Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me, we both matter, don't we? You, it's you and me. It's you and me won't be unhappy. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building, Say, if I only could, oh...

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 8

WARNING. HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Richie watched as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon, lighting the sky red, orange, yellow, begging the clock to tick just a bit quicker so he could be free from his job. Britney and Mason, douchebag 1 and douchebag 2, were chattering away like hormone-driven starlings right behind him rather than wiping down the counters like they probably should have been. It was 30 minutes until his shift was up and the flow of customers had more than ebbed by now. Normally, Richie wouldn't want his shift to ever end; normally meant he had Bev or Ben at his side to keep him from drowning himself in the backroom sink. Tonight, neither were here, so he was stuck with the two preppy assholes he was so desperately trying to tune out. On any other occasion the music leaking from the tinny speakers would have been enough to get him through the day, but tonight things were different and the radio was instead tuned to bark out the score of some sports game Richie couldn't care less about but had the one or two patrons (who were already served and seated) tilting one ears towards the sound in interest. If given the chance Richie would have been just fine talking with Britney and Mason; he didn't like them, not really, but his big mouth was begging to run after almost a straight 45 minutes of near-silence and professionalism, and the problem was that they didn't seem too fond of talking to him.

And so, Richie simply stood. And waited. And grew more and more bored out of his mind. His fingers began to drum against his chin which was rested on the palm of his left hand which was- in turn- propped up by his elbow on the slightly-sticky surface of the counter. He fought the urge to tap his foot and he fought the urge to hum or dance or bop his head all because he didn't think he could stand knowing the other two would judge him for it. Judgement wasn't often something that bothered him but the memories of last night's talk with Beverly kept trying to pop up into his brain. Yes, that was another reason he was desperate for something to do- Richie just couldn't stop thinking about that talk. The door to the cafe popped open and, golly, it was Richie's lucky day- in stepped one bite-sized brunette with a tentative scowl on his face full of freckles. Just like that, Richie perked up again, his smile splitting his face right in two and his stomach beginning a circus performance consisting of backflips and pirouettes.

"Well, wouldja lookit that!" Snapping his fingers, Richie leaned forwards and across the counter to greet Eddie with his bright eyes, "Spaghetti-man, welcome! Just in time, I was tempted to throw myself into one of the ovens!" Eddie's scowl vanished and instead came a confused little grin that looked pretty goofy and melted away the last of any problems the world had to face.

"Christ, Rich, that's a little dramatic," Eddie pulled up to the counter and began to say something else but, well, Richie was a little distracted taking in the sight of him alone. It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd interacted and, after his little talk with Bev, Richie couldn't really get Eddie out of his mind. Fitted in a fluffy coral-toned knitted sweater and a pair of black jeans, he was looking adorable. Imagining Eddie with some accessory like a bracelet or black nails was even cuter- suddenly, Richie felt very much like Bev said she did whenever she went digging through his wardrobe. Eddie quirked a brow and snapped Richie right out of his thoughts.

"Sorry? What was that? My head's still a lil' out of it tonight," He straightened his back, blinking his scattered thoughts away and cracking his knuckles as if he were being thrown into a cage match, "Can I get you something to drink? To eat? A seat at the bar, maybe? I could use someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going crazy around here," As he said 'crazy' Richie spun a finger around his temple, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I actually just came by to say hello, since... y'know. The party and... and all that shit. We had a deal, didn't we?" Eddie took up Richie's offer for a barstool, leaping up onto it and folding his hands on the counter. He glared down at the tabletop as he spoke, bashful. It warmed Richie's heart and he smiled even wider, clasping his hands and holding them up to the side of his face; his eyelashes battered wildly and then he was the Southern Belle.

"Well, my oh my, ain't you a doll? Stoppin' by just to get a glance at lil' ole' me?" With another roll of his eyes (that seemed to be an Eddie Kaspbrak trademark) Eddie finally looked up again and rested his cheek on one hand.

"I regret it now, Trashmouth. You're gonna make my ears bleed." Laughing, Richie spun on his heel, briefly catching Britney and Mason's gazes and then went straight for the cups to whip up a signature drink for his friend, even if it was against company policy both to create anything original and to give out anything without it being paid for. Who gives a shit, Richie thinks to himself, and gets right to it.

"How's a mocha sound, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"It's- It's fine, but how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Especially not with, like-" Eddie didn't need to finish his sentence, nor did Richie have to actually see him to know he was passing discreet glances at the two coworkers most likely listening in. Eddie was embarrassed about his silly little nickname. Challenge accepted- Richie had plenty of those. Flipping switches, tapping buttons, spinning around the kitchen with practiced ease, Richie pumped out a perfect dark chocolate mocha with steamed vanilla milk and caramel sauce drizzled artistically across the mountain of whipped cream on the top. It was a masterpiece- no surprise there.

"And here you are, Eduardo." the cup was set down and Eddie gave Richie an awkward, thankful smile. "Enjoy it- and here, dip one of these in it," Sliding open one side of the bakery treats display case Richie pulled out a slice of banana bread, "It's fantastic. Like, seriously, Eds. Ten out of fucking ten."

"When did your shift start today? I didn't know you worked," Eddie's cheeks flushed a soft red thanks to his own curiosity and he hid it with a sip from his drink. Richie shrugged,

"Nine. I was exhausted. Had to steal a coffee or two throughout the course of the day like the rebel I am." Richie reached up, popping the collar of today's brightly coloured shirt (pink, blue, yellow, purple, an amalgamation of triangles and circles and squares) and hunching his shoulders in, grimacing dramatically and sauntering back and forth like a biker dude who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and loved the road more than anything else, "I run 'gainst the law, dawg," Eddie cracked a toothy smile and let out a dancing chuckle, "I rob gas 'tations and pick pockets for a livin'," Richie reached a hand up and began to fuss with his hair in an attempt to transform it into an impromptu mullet. Bringing the attention towards his curls Eddie's face screwed up but his smile still lingered.

"You need a fuckin' haircut, dude, like- wow. It's like a whole mop, Richie," And then Eddie's eyes grew wide and he recoiled, "Did you make my drink with that mane exposed? What if- what if you got your stupid hair in it? You know you're committing a guideline 37 health code violation? It's literally against the law not to wear a hair net, you know. And did you wash your hands?" Richie flipped his collar back down as Eddie spoke, letting out a huff and stumbling over to the sink to jam his hands under the faucet. "I heard people's hands carry up to almost five million different kinds of bacteria. You'd better not be putting that into people's-" Richie's hands now soaking wet, he lifted them and flicked them violently in Eddie's direction. The shorter boy cut himself off and let out a startled cry as he was assaulted by these droplets of water, half-jumping-half-falling out of his chair to scramble out of range. "You asshole! This sweater is a gift from my mom you know, and it could get damaged or-" Someone in the shop barked out a hissing 'shhh!' and Eddie went silent, his face bright red.

"The patrons request silence, my lo- friend, jeezly-crow," Richie dried his hands on the towel just near the sink, acting like he hadn't almost called Eddie 'my love' (he only didn't say it because of his coworkers and Eddie's pride) and returned to standing across from him. As soon as he was near enough Eddie delivered a half-assed punch to his forearm that was more teasing than actually harmful.

"That was quite the show," Britney, for once in her life, regarded Richie with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, and then glanced over at Eddie who was now smiling sheepishly and clearly dreading meeting a new person. Britney stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you... Eduardo, was it?"

"Ah- Eddie, actually, my name is Eddie- Richie is just... just stupid sometimes, sorry," Rapidly, Eddie wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and took Britney's hesitantly within his own. Only Richie noticed the way his brows flicked a little closer together- Eddie was uncomfortable. That much was obvious.

"It's part of my charm, isn't-"

"Oh my God, I know, right? He's such a goofball!" With a horribly dopey grin, Britney pushed at Richie's shoulder and let out a high-pitched titter, "Imagine having to work with him every day!" Both boys let out an awkward chuckle, sharing a glance that said a multitude of different things; Who the hell is this chick? and Well she's just a little rude. and Can she maybe leave us alone? and many, many other things as well. "So, Eds- can I call you that?-" Britney didn't give him a chance to protest even though he wanted to, "How long have you and Richard been friends? How'd you meet him?" Britney leaned in just beside Richie, basically elbow to elbow as she crossed her arms and leaned into them to- oh- everything clicks together just like that, just as Britney uses her arms to push her chest higher. She was trying (and, well, failing, frankly) to flirt with Eddie. It seems that the asthmatic has yet to notice.

"Well, I... Not long, we just met a little over a week ago, I guess. It's actually kind of funny we-"

"Only a week?" Britney batted her lashes and Richie debated on telling her that her interrupting was not a good flirting technique, "But you two seem so close already! Gosh, I'd have guessed you two were high school friends at least!"

"Nope," Richie interjected before she could continue, "Just new friends. He's great, I'm great- that makes double great- Anyhow, Britney, we should let him enjoy his drink shouldn't-"

"Quite the mouth on him, huh?" Somehow, impossibly, Richie had failed to get her attention. Demanding all eyes on him was his specialty, but it was as if Britney had garnered some sort of tunnel vision, like a race horse with blinders perched on either side of it's head. Flirt racing. Place your bets. Richie felt a flame of jealousy and immediately squashed it down, feeling like some bitchy schoolgirl. "Chatter chatter chatter, all day long. How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, usually," Eddie was fiddling with the hem of one sleeve, his cheeks puffed out lightly in irritation. Who knew one man could have so much patience. "I... Well, I kind of like the chatter, actually. My own thoughts race so fast, it's cool to finally have someone who can keep up with them." Shrugging, Eddie turns to Richie and opens his mouth to speak, but, what a surprise, Britney beats him to it.

"I'm sure I could keep up with them, hon, if you gave me the chance," Britney let one eye fall down in a wink and Eddie gaped, frozen. His face drained of colour, a ghastly white that highlighted each and every one of his freckles- then it flooded red and he gripped the sides of the counter, looking at Richie again but this time as a silent plea, a save me oh my God- "What's your number?" She smiled, her rose red lips curling up in a way that could only be described as evil, "Or I can give you mine. I'd like to get to know you better." One part of Richie wanted to let this play out just because it was such a wonderful opportunity to watch Eddie flounder. The other part, the moral part, was screaming at him to intervene.

"Oh- I, I uh- I'm so-sorry I don't-" Eddie's tongue was tied. He swallowed hard and shook his head, his breath beginning to come in hitches, "I- I'm not interested I'm s-sorry if you got the- the wrong idea or-"

"Oh, come on, pretty please?" Britney leaned in closer and Eddie leaned away. "With a cherry on top? I promise it'll be fun-"

"Fuck off, Brit, he said no," Richie tried to keep his tone level, knowing that if he didn't his jealousy would show, but it seems he wasn't firm enough and that Britney didn't quite get the message. Eddie was still shaking his head, patting at his pockets as if searching for something, something to get him out of this more than awkward situation and turning up empty handed.

"We can maybe go to dinner tomorrow night or something like that, I'm a pretty fun girl when you get to-"

"Britney, that's enough!" Slamming one hand down on the countertop and raising his voice, all eyes turned to him- even those of the patrons, though this time no one hissed out a shush. After a beat of silence, Richie continued with a calmer tone, "You're clearly making him uncomfortable, I think you should just get to wiping down the counters or something so we can start closing up," Someone behind Richie scoffed; Mason. His other coworker. Rounding on him, Richie crossed his arms, trying to look somewhat intimidating in the face of this super-jock. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Well, I just think your little friend there's really makin' a mistake," Mason shifted his weight onto one foot, peering around Richie and staring the poor flustered Eds straight in the eye, "She really is a great chick, and... Well, you look like you could use a ride like her." Eddie's jaw dropped and his face went redder. He looked as if he were about to pass out, and Richie was stunned all the same.

"Jesus Christ, man, you can't just say that! What the hell's wrong with you?" Richie took a step forwards, glaring even harder but Mason wasn't deterred, wasn't afraid, was still dead set on either picking on Eddie or maybe actually attempting to give some sort of skewed advice.

"She'll do nearly anything you want if you ask nice," Britney was smiling though she looked a little stunned herself by this show of boldness, "And it seems she likes you, too. You're her type- short, thin, kinda... well, kinda girly to be honest," Eddie stared down at the tabletop, fighting to control his erratic breathing and seeming to have given up on patting his pockets for- oh shit, his inhaler. Was Eddie having an asthma attack?

"Mason, you fucking idiot, give it a rest. Eddie isn't interested. Leave him the fuck alone!" Richie was growing irritated- something about Mason felt off today. Usually the boy didn't outright pick on other people, he was always at least subtle about it.

"Oh, shit-" Mason let out a little chuckle, and stepped around Richie to approach the counter, "Unless- wait, unless you're not into her?" Richie was so close to slamming a fist across Mason's stupid face. After years of not understanding why everyone called his own face punchable, Richie finally got it. Some people just looked like good boxing practice.

"No fucking shit Sherlock of course he isn't into-"

"Unless you're some sort of fairy?"

Oh, the silence that followed this statement was suffocating. It was as if a thick blanket of quiet had throttled the room; Eddie's hitching breaths had stopped- in fact, so had his breathing altogether. His eyes had hollowed out, his face had lost all colour for good this time, and his shoulders had jumped up to his ears. Britney's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide, breath stolen away in a more figurative sense. Richie was entirely and utterly shocked. He had known Mason wasn't the ideal fella. He cheated on girlfriends and drank too much and stole things, but this- this was... more than Richie had expected. It took a lot for Richie to dislike someone and he disliked both him and sort of Britney for quite the big book of reasons; but downright homophobia was not in his book until today.

"What. The fuck." Richie's voice had gone low, dangerously low. Mason turned to face him instead, his eyes dancing with quite the colorful array of emotions yet somehow appearing haunted, dead, all at the same time. If Richie had to get all poetic and describe it he'd say those eyes were reminiscent of an ocean- chaotic in the crashing of the waves, and yet endlessly empty. He was smiling wide. Proud. Like a shark. Eddie was still silent.

"Maybe I've got things wrong, maybe that was wrong," Mason held his hands up defensively, and Richie made the mistake of letting him continue, "Maybe... Well maybe he's not a fairy." A pause, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, "Maybe you are, Tozier. Maybe you're the little fag-"

"Shut up, Mason. Just shut the hell up." Mason leaned in, arms crossed, smile smug,

"You know, as sick as you are, it doesn't even surprise me." From Richie's right there was a gasp, a choked sound reminiscent of some form of words.

"Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God-"

"I probably should have realized sooner, to be entirely honest. I mean, your hair, your clothes, your stupid nails and your stupider voices-"

"Richie- Richie I-" Richie's head was spinning with red hot rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, his teeth gritted tightly.

"You don't know a single thing about me you asshole,"

"I guess it's possible both you and your friend here mingle with that crowd, huh? Maybe the- Oh Jesus, maybe the reason you're so defensive is because the two of you are, like, boning or-" And, that was the final fucking straw. Richie didn't register his hands flying out to shove, hard, at Mason's chest until the boy was stumbling backwards, right over Britney taking them both to the ground. Richie was taller than Mason. Mason was heavier than Richie. With the right momentum, the right force and angle, he could- and did- send Mason almost flying.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? Jesus- and to think I might actually, one day, maybe be able to tolerate your obnoxious ass here at work?"

"Rich- I c-can't-"

"Wow, I was naïve! Do you have a single scrap of human decency in that tiny frocking brain of yours or are you only powered by fucking and alcohol?"

"R-Richie! I-"

"Well guess fucking what, you dog? I've got quite the gift for-"

"Richie!!" Just as Richie was about to spit right onto Mason's stupid face Eddie dragged him out of his furious haze with a choking wheeze. His head snapped right, gluing onto Eddie's trembling form; one hand was grasping at his throat, the other supporting him on the countertop, shaky, pale. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked positively awful with his mouth open wide and his chest heaving painfully up and down. "Rich- I- I-I-I c-ca-can't breathe I-"

"Shit, Eds, I'm so sorry," Richie didn't waste a second in hopping over the counter, tearing off his work apron and tossing it to the floor, discarding his anger with it, "Come on, let's go, let's get you some fresh air okay? We can hurry to your place and get your inhaler, yeah?" Despite the hate, the disgust, Richie couldn't care less about how he must have looked as he took Eddie's hand and began to drag him to the door, half-drunken mocha and quarter of banana bread left for the other two to clean up. On their way out Richie was almost certain he heard one last snide comment, some slur, but his only focus right now was Eddie and the way he was sucking in rasping breaths like a drowning man. Rich shoved the door open with one shoulder, holding it ajar and letting Eddie pass by, resting a hand on his back as he did so and beginning to steer him down the sidewalk in no particular direction. "Where's your house? What's your address? Should I call Bill or Stan or- We have to get you to your inhaler, don't we?" Cowering like a hurt puppy, Eddie shrunk into Richie's side, still gripping and clawing and gasping. "W-What do I do where do I go what-"

"No-" Eddie forced the words out through gritted teeth, shaking his head and holding up a single finger- just give me a minute. The two came to a halt underneath the golden glow of a streetlamp just recently lit. The sky was a dark purple now, growing into blue.

"Eddie, don't you need you inhaler?" He shook his head again, and Richie screwed his brows together, "But your asthma, we can't risk it we should just-"

"NO, Rich- Just-" Eddie gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, "Just give me a- a fucking minute!" Richie shrunk away, pulling his arms to his chest and taking a tentative step back. Eddie turned, hiding his face, and continued to sputter, refusing Richie's help and planting one hand over his eyes and forehead. A minute passed- Richie tried to suggest once more that the inhaler was the safest option. Eddie denied it with another string of breaths and curses. At last, an agonizing three minutes later, the rise and fall of Eddie's chest grew steadier.

"Are... Are you sure you're alright? I... I don't know how asthma works but I don't think ignoring it is healthy." Risking being yelled at again Richie stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on Eddie's frail shoulder. For one quick moment those big brown eyes stared up at him and then they flicked away, down to their shoes instead. The smaller boy's ears burned red with shame.

"I don't-" Eddie scoffed, "I don't fucking- I don't fucking have asthma okay? I'm fine. I just- need to- calm the hell down."

"You- what? You don't have asthma? Then what was all that stuff at the party-"

"It was nothing, okay? It was just my stupid brain being all messed up! It's not asthma, jackass, so just- let it go, please. Jesus," Eddie shook off Richie's hand and took a few steps back, one hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He started to pace. "I can't believe that guy, what an asshole! And that girl, I just-" He cried out incoherently, too frustrated to piece together another phrase, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I really am. I don't know what got into them- Mason especially, he isn't usually that bad and I... Well, that wasn't cool. Something was wrong about him tonight and- fuck," Richie brought his hands up to his face, underneath his glasses to scrub it vigorously, "I don't know, man, I'm so sorry." When Richie's hands fell again Eddie was looking at him, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his chest, concerned. A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"What...? Of course I am, I'm not the one who almost choked on-"

"Then what the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" Eddie surged forwards and, this time, pushed Richie with both hands, though the outcome was very different and Richie hardly budged.

"Woah woah Eds what-"

"He could have hit you! Are you stupid or something? That guy would have had your fucking neck snapped before you could even do anything about it and you were just going to let it happen because he said some nasty shit to me?" Again, Eddie thumped a fist into Richie's chest, and then another.

"Of course Eddie he can't just-"

"People have said that shit to me all my life, Richie, you don't have to go risking your stupid neck because of it!" This time Richie caught Eddie by the wrist before his shove could connect, and then caught the other hand right after, holding them tight, "Let me go, Richie I can't deal with you being like this right now it's like you're not even listening to me and-"

"Eddie, calm down you're gonna throw yourself into another fit!"

"I'm okay, asshole, I'm not gonna break down and die right here and now because I'm angry at you! I-I get angry all the time I'm not some child- I-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and then he spat out the words coated in acid, "You don't get to act all 'night in shining armor' just because some airheaded asshole wants to tell me what's good for me! I can take care of myself and I fucking hate it when people treat me like some stupid kid!" Eddie was gasping again, though this time he kept his mouth shut tight, trying to hide that he was struggling. He looked furious and terrified and hurt, a trio of emotion that Richie never wanted to see on his face again. Richie let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting go of Eddie's wrists. As soon as he did Eddie crossed his arms and took a step back, averting his gaze. The tips of his ears were burning brighter.

"I... Eddie, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to- to belittle you or talk down to you or anything like that. I just saw that you were getting badmouthed and I acted before I could really think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Trashmouth, you seem to be a little fucking impulsive." His voice strained, it was evident that Eddie was trying to reign in his temper, his 'asthma' already calming down once more. "Just... just please let me handle myself in the future. I can do it, I swear,"

"Yeah, I... I know you can. You're," Richie chuckled, and punched Eddie weakly, tentatively in the shoulder, "You're all sorts of spunk in one tiny package," Allowing himself to grin just for a split second Eddie slapped offense onto his face and wore a pout that would better fit a toddler.

"Are you calling me short? That's real low, Rich, that's just-"

"Low, is it? Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Oh- fuck you!" Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away to conceal his smile as Richie let out his bright cackling, ripping through the silence of the night in a way that was more pleasant than Eddie thought possible. "God, you're just such an asshole, I hope you know that," He jabbed out an accusatory finger and Richie shot up his hands in mock surrender as if that finger were a gun.

"Don't shoot!" He hollered, stumbling a step back, "I have a wife and kids to get back to!" Eddie laughed, dropping his hand, and just barely stopped himself from asking if Richie had a husband to get back to instead. That was a can of worms for another day.

"I'm exhausted now thanks to you. You're like a baby, always whining and shit. Come on, Stan works and Bill's probably asleep by now. Wanna come watch a movie or something? I think we have a copy of Die Hard lying around." Eddie began to walk back in the direction of the cafe- Richie had taken the complete wrong path in their hasty escape- waving one hand for him to follow. Richie was now beaming, knowing just what to say to (hopefully) piss off Eddie even more.

"Oh, awesome! My favourite Christmas movie!" Eddie spun on him. Mission accomplished.

"What the fuck did you just say? Christmas movie?!"

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween” with reddie please ^^

10. “I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween”

* * * * *

It was Eddie’s workplace’s annual Christmas Party and once again Eddie wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Currently, Eddie was squished between Monica from Accounts and Bradley from Sales as they spoke over him about New Year plans as though he wasn’t even there. It was always the same, Eddie was invited to these things, but only out of curtesy, nobody really wanted him there. They never did.

Even though it was a Christmas Party, the company he worked for always had some new underlying agenda going on as to justify the free drinks and fancy meal. This year, it was all about scoring a deal with the CEO of Tozier Industries, a high ranking and popular entertainment business. They dabbled in radio, television, film and news and it would be a great investment for their company to have them on their side.

“I can’t believe we threw an event for Mr Tozier and he didn’t even bother to show up,” Bradley scoffed. “I haven’t seen him anywhere around here, which is an absolute joke. I know that Mr Gray wants him to be a part of the company as it is great publicity, but this is absurd.”

Eddie held back the urge to speak up in Mr Tozier’s defence. Wentworth, the CEO, was a busy man Eddie could only imagine. Since it was Christmas he probably had plenty of other engagements to attend to over a measly Christmas Party. He knew, however, to keep his mouth shut as he would only be shut down anyway. It was pointless. He had no idea why he was even employed there, as no-one cared to listen to any one of his ideas, even if they were good ones.

Thankfully, the conversation moved away pretty quickly when Annabel from the front office elbowed Bradley in the side to shut him up. Monica giggled that high pitched fake laugh that she had before changing the subject. “What movie will we watch for the end of year movie night next week? I vote for Love Actually, it is such a classic Christmas Rom Com.”

Bradley groaned, rolling his eyes, “We watched that movie last year. This year it’s time for something different! Like Die Hard! It’s a great movie to watch at Christmas.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Eddie cleared his throat and spoke up, “What about the Night Before Christmas? It’s classic Christmas movie…”

The three co-workers all stopped and turned their attention to Eddie, narrowing their eyes a little. “Oh Eddie, we didn’t even see you there. When did you show up?” Monica laughed. “Anyway, that movie isn’t a Christmas Movie, it’s a Halloween movie. You should know that, Eddie.”

Bradley choked back a laugh and Eddie felt his cheeks flush red. He knew the movie could be watched at both Christmas and Halloween, but it was clear no matter what he said, the three assholes in front of him would only find another way to make his suggestion invalid.

Just as Eddie was about to turn around and go hide in the bathrooms for the remainder of the evening, someone stepped up behind him, staring at the three of his, still laughing, co-workers. “I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween,” The male said, raising a challenging eyebrow at them, daring them to say anything.

Eddie turned his head to get a better look at the new arrival who was speaking in his defence and he swallowed thickly. The guy was dressed formally in a suit and tie, was a whole lot taller than Eddie with wild curly hair and thick framed glasses that perched on his nose. He was also standing next to Mr Gray, who was less than impressed, as always.

“May I introduce you to Richard Tozier, Wentworth’s son. Went couldn’t make it this evening so his son has come in his place in order to discuss a possible contract.” Mr Gray announced and Bradley’s face went sour, followed by bright red in embarrassment. Eddie held back a giggle. “Richard this is Bradley, Monica and Annabel, they are all very important members of my team and they are looking forward to possibly creating an agreement with your company.”

The smile that was on Eddie’s face disappeared as Mr Gray ignored the fact that he was present and Bradley smirked, moving to the side and blocking Eddie out of their circle. He sighed, looking for the nearest exit in the hopes of making a quiet escape, but a voice cut him off.

“And who is this?” Richard asked, his eyes meeting Eddie’s as he turned around. “I want to know the name of the cutie that agrees with me on when it’s appropriate to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

From behind him, Eddie could see the glares of the three co-workers as all the attention was now focused on him. Mr Gray cleared his throat and ushered Eddie forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spin. “This is Edward. He works…where do you work again Eddie?”

“Risks,” Eddie whispered. Eddie was one of the company’s risk analysts, even though he felt he would be much more suited in handling events and meetings. He was good at that, communications was what he was qualified to do! “I work in risks.”

Richie raised an eyebrow and Eddie felt a blush form on his cheeks. The words that Richie had used earlier to describe him only just registering in his mind. He had called him cute. “Well Eddie from Risks. What do you think of my company creating a relationship with Gray Enterprises?”

In all honesty, Eddie wanted to scream at Richie to run for the hills and never look back. He wanted to tell him that joining the company would be a terrible investment and that he should focus on more local companies that would bring him better revenue. However, everyone staring at him, including his boss, Eddie knew he had to lie. If he didn’t, he’d be fired on the spot.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a headache coming on so I think I’ll retire for the night.” Eddie took a step back, not missing the disappointed look on Richie’s face. From where he was standing, he noticed Richie’ pull something out of his pocket, scribbling on it with a marker. If he could, Eddie would have stayed just for him, but he couldn’t bare to be in the presence of his asshole coworkers for another second. It wasn’t like he would ever see Richie again, as everyone would make it their personal mission to keep them far away from one another.

Before he could get far though, Richie stepped forward and reached out and shook Eddie’s hand, slipping whatever he had been scribbling on into his palm. He winked at Eddie, “Lovely to meet you, Eddie. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

Eddie swallowed, heat pooling in his stomach at Richie’s intense, yet intriguing stare. He let go of his hand, stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket and heading out of the building into the cold night. It wasn’t until Eddie was in the cab on the way home that he looked at what Richie had handed him.

I’d like to see you again, off the record this time. Call/Text me - 212-470-2271.

* * * * * 

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs  @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1

[unpack-my-heart]

I Would Not Wish Any Companion In The World But You

READ ON AO3 HERE

@tinyarmedtrex​ @xandertheundead​ @moonlightrichie​ @toziesque​ @constantreaderfool​ @violetreddie​ @eds-trashmouth​ @oldguybones​

9th January 2003 // 06:24am

There are fifty four seats on the subway. Fifty four seats split across two carriages. Eddie knows this because he’s counted them. He’s counted them, over and over again, when he boards at seventy-eighth street, and takes the blue line south into the city every day at 06:24am. The air whips around his head cruelly, a mocking tempest that whispers in his ear, the rest of the world slumbers, the rest of the world sleeps like the dead. The subway station is buried deep in the underbelly of the street, five flights of stairs below the surface. Eddie descends every day, Persephone to her kingdom beneath the earth, a daily pilgrimage that he’d rather not take.

The air whips around his head, a bizarre faux-breeze created by the whooshing of the subway trains, and Eddie seethes silently.

– X –

9th January 2003 // 06:45am

Fucking fucking fuck fuck fuck. He’s late. He can practically hear the subway pull into the station, bouncing on its tracks impatiently, as he skitters down the stairway, sending a suited-and-booted businessman flying, the skittle to Richie’s bowling ball. A “watch it, you fuckin’ lunatic” later, and Richie’s on the platform, panting breathlessly as the train ambles into view. His sneakers are soaking wet, an unwelcome parting gift from the storm raging outside, and he wiggles his toes miserably, wet socks clinging, limpet-like, to his skin.

The train is heaving. Faceless bodies jostle each other, wordless micro-fights for territory, but no-one wins the war. Richie slides onto the carriage, lodging himself securely between a woman with a bouffant hairdo that smells like hairspray and the end of the world, and a man with sunken eyes. The train lurches forward.

– X –

9th January 2003 // 07:03am

He’s back. Eddie can sense him before he sees him. It’s as if the air shifts, as if the static sings out one clear note, loud and piercing, before shifting back to white noise once more. He’s back. Eddie turns around, as subtle a movement as he can manage, and sure enough, the man with the floppy hair and the Midas eyes is standing awkwardly in the middle of the carriage, one hand grasping the rail so tightly his knuckles are white, the other clasping a cup of coffee that was surely destined to spill. The man’s routine is almost as predictable as Eddie’s, as regular as the ebb and flow of the tide. He boards Eddie’s train at Hazelwood, always thirty seconds before the doors shut tight, always with a red tinge to his face, always with his glasses steamed with the effort of schlepping his body through the station at lightning speed.

Eddie flexes his hand on the handle of his briefcase. The leather is damp with sweat. The train stops once more, people filter off, people shove their way on. The dance continues.

– X –

13th January 2003 // 06:15am

For the first time in a week, Eddie makes it to the station without the heavens splitting open. His coat remains dry, and the music from his headphones is loud and uninterrupted in his ears. The inky sky is dappled with stars that shine brightly, almost too brightly, and Eddie turns his back on them as he descends into the subway station once more, with Ian Curtis warbling in his ear. The stars do not miss him.

His phone buzzes, surely a text from the warm body he’d left slumbering in his bed mere minutes before. Eddie ignores it, and the phone buzzes feebly once more, until it sits petulantly still in his pocket.

“Spare any change, mate?”

Eddie nods his head, and scrabbles in his pocket, fingers skimming his phone, before he pulls out five coins. He places them in the hand that wobbles slightly in the air.

“Thanks, Sir.”

Eddie nods again, a sharp, jerky movement, and walks on.

– X –

15th January 2003 // 07:25am

The doors of the train yawn open, and Richie trips out. He turns around, face flushed with embarrassment, scanning the vacant faces that stare out of the windows at him, the faces that stare past him, all of them but one. One set of eyes, curious and concerned in equal measure, do not leave his until the train has heaved itself up off its haunches once more, and scuttled off into the tunnel. Richie stares after it for one, two, three beats, before he turns on his heel and walks away.

It takes fifteen minutes for Richie to get to the radio station, a building that looms over the sidewalk. He waves his pass at the disinterested looking guard, and begins his trek up the four flights of stairs to his cubicle.

“Hiya, Rich,” Mike Hanlon says, a honey’d voice, a voice made for talk radio and asking you how you take your eggs in the morning.

“Howdy, partn’r,” Richie returns, and Mike laughs.

Mike slips past him, and skips down the stairs, humming a small ditty that Richie didn’t recognise.

Half way through his lunchbreak, half eaten sandwich discarded at the edge of his desk, chip crumbs stuck to his fingers, Richie remembers those eyes, and the face the eyes belonged to.

– X –

18th February 2003 // 07:00am

“I’m on the train, the signal might dip out,” Eddie warns, but the crackly voice on the other end just laughs.

“It’ll be fine, babe.”

“I’m just saying, you might not –”

“Eddie? Eddie are you here? I can’t hear you”

Eddie rolls his eyes, glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally affronted him. “I warned you, Jasp.”

“Hello? Eddie? Helloooo?”

Eddie hangs up. The phone buzzes once in his hand, a text. Eddie doesn’t read it.

The train pulls into the next station, a few minutes late, and the air crackles. On cue, the man with the hunched shoulders and sloping nose crowds his way on, nestling himself between a girl smacking her gum loudly and a woman with a large, unfortunate wart on the end of his nose. The man looks cheerful, and he taps his foot restlessly to a silent beat. Eddie watches the man from where he’s standing a few feet away with his arm thrust in the air, hand gripping the hand rail, or rather, the magazine that he had placed between his hand and the rail, a perhaps futile attempt to keep his journey and his hand as germ free as possible.

Thoughts of work invade Eddie’s brain with a familiar war-cry of meeting at 9am with the Bainton Brothers, must call Christine about the Duffer case, have I filled in the paperwork for the audit next week? Eddie lets the thoughts percolate and ferment until he’s giddy from the fumes.

The train pulls into 6th Avenue and the man gets off the train. Eddie closes his eyes against the loss.

– X –

29th February 2003 // 06:47am

He’s late. He skids around the corner, lungs threatening to rupture against the cage of his ribs, and watches helplessly as the train pulls gracefully away from the platform and disappears into the mocking darkness of the tunnel. He’s really really late.

Richie swears under his breath, and crosses his arms against the cold. The arrivals board flashes. The next train into the city is due in six minutes.

– X –

29th February 2003 // 07:01am

Eddie wonders if he’s sick, or if he’s got a new job, or if he’s simply decided that he wants to get the 06:54 into the city instead of the 06:45. The realisation that he’d miss his nameless travel companion sucker punches Eddie in the gut with such force that he staggers back slightly. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and guilt shoots up his spine.

– X –

19th March 2003 //  06:53am

A pair of seats free up after Nasser St Station, and Richie victoriously slides into them. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s managed to rest his still-half-asleep legs on his morning commute, so he savours each opportunity like a fine wine. He plops down into the seat by the window, and rests his forehead against the cool glass. The seat beside him remains unoccupied for a suspicious length of time, and, unable to ignore it any longer, Richie sits up straight and looks around, curious. The carriage is uncharacteristically empty, the usual throngs of people unaccounted for. A lone figure stands in the middle of the carriage, head bowed, nodding along in blink-and-you’ll-miss them movements to music playing from his headphones, the bassy undertone bleeding from them loud enough for Richie to hear, but he doesn’t recognise the song.

Richie coughs.

Nothing happens. The train continues forwards, dancing in and out of stations rhythmically, and the man standing in the middle of the carriage flexes his hand around the hand rail, the newspaper lodged between hand and rail crackling loudly.

Richie coughs again, and one cough becomes two, and two becomes three until he’s spluttering, a fake explosion that he hopes catches the attention of a certain someone.

“Are you alright?” a voice asks, and Richie stops coughing immediately.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replies, and the woman returns to her seat, eyeing him curiously.

When Richie turns away, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, he locks eyes with the man in the middle of the carriage, and his smile widens involuntarily. The man continues to stare at Richie, or rather, stare next to Richie. His eyes are trained on the tired, threadbare covering of the unoccupied seat next to Richie, with his eyebrows knitted as if deep in thought. Richie blinks, teeth bared in a now manic grin, and the man jerks, taking a step forward on unsure feet but, at the last moment, he stops, right foot hovering stupidly in the air, the ghost of a step never to be taken.

An older woman that smells like talcum powder and lavender soap sits down next to Richie at the next stop. The man disappears from view, and the smile slides off Richie’s face like tar.

– X –

30th March 2003 // 07:13am

Eddie practically throws his briefcase onto the seat, the previous occupant barely out of the way before the briefcase lands on the seat with a loud thud. Disregarding the fact that he has to get off the subway in four stops, Eddie slumps into the seat. The backs of his heels sting, a punishment for having the audacity to replace his old shoes, shoes with large holes in the soles, and buttery leather scarred with cracks and creases. Preoccupied with his protesting feet, Eddie barely registers a figure pushing its way down the carriage, before a body lands on the seat next to his, narrowly missing Eddie’s hand which he withdraws with a silent hiss.

Annoyance stirs like snakes in Eddie’s gut, before he glances at the face of the person whose knee was pressed solidly against his. Their eyes meet and, immediately, Eddie stares at the floor.

The man with the impish grin and the bushy eyebrows shifts in the seat, his knee no longer touching Eddie’s, and Eddie counts to five in his head, long and slow.

– X –

30th March 2003 // 07:23

Richie shifts in his seat, trying desperately to recapture the attention of the man beside him, who was staring out of the window, eyes squinted with the force of his gaze, but Richie was sure that he was seeing nothing at all. The man was shorter than Richie, and slight, body wrapped carefully in a suit made from a soft looking fabric, and Richie’s fingers itched with desire to touch it, to dance his fingers along the swooping lines of the man’s arms. Richie taps his fingers against his own thighs, and he gets lost in the movement, absorbed in the tap-tap-tapping of his fingers against his leg, and before he knows it, and before he’s ready, the metallic voice echoes out across the carriage.

“The next stop is 6th avenue west, if you’re leaving us here please ensure you have …”

The voice fades into the background noise. The man beside him tenses. Richie stands. The man slumps back in his seat, head resting against the window. Richie leaves.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:32pm

He’d gotten the call the night before. Mike was off sick, a viral infection that had swollen his tonsils to the size of golf balls, and the station desperately needed someone to cover the afternoon slot. Richie, mainly out of sheer devotion to Mike Hanlon, had graciously agreed, and had left his morning slot in the capable hands of his co-host. He had still woken at the crack of dawn, his body refusing to sleep for longer than it was used to, but Richie petulantly lay in bed until 8:45am, refusing to get out of bed until his bladder screamed riotously and he had counted every crack in the ceiling of his bedroom.

He had strolled to the subway station, coffee in hand, Danish pastry sitting heavy in his belly, relishing in the ability to be unhurried, to take his time, to potter this way and that. The subway was, predictably, much quieter than it was in the morning. Three or four people stood on the platform with him, mostly young adults, clutching heavy rucksacks. The train pulled in, Richie stepped on, and, almost immediately, dropped his coffee.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:34pm

Eddie watched as the man with the scuffed sneakers and large hands dropped his coffee, caramel coloured liquid pooling on the floor. The man huffed, a noise that was as annoyed as it was embarrassed, and stared helplessly at the mess on the floor.

A great, hacking cough forced its way up Eddie’s throat and, despite his attempts to squash it down, he erupted into a coughing fit that he buried in his scarf, eyes screwed shut against the throbbing in his ears. His eyes were hazy, every blink a Promethean effort. The air was thick, thick like honey but not half as sweet, and it stoppered his aching lungs viciously. The man had abandoned the spilt coffee and was now sat on a seat that directly faced Eddie’s, concern etched onto his face. Eddie, barely able to turn his neck without pain shooting up it, shut his eyes against the concern, and let the gentle rocking of the train lull him into something not quite sleep.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:44pm

A small packet of tissues fell gracelessly into Eddie’s lap, and when Eddie turned to look out of the window, neck practically creaking under the effort, the molten amber eyes of the stranger met his.

– X –

21st May 2003 // 8:45pm

The first time he had seen them, small daggers of ‘did you really think’ and ‘are you quite that stupid’ had stabbed at Richie mercilessly. The second time he’d seen them had been worse, as the knife twisted and turned, a simple confirmation of the inevitable. Now, the third time, Richie was, thankfully, closer to careful apathy than ever before. They were laughing to each other, the braying hooting of the stranger contrasted with the quiet, gulpy laughter of the man Richie had spent practically every morning staring at, spurred on by cruel hope. Richie crossed his arm, the leather of his jacket rustling loudly, loudly enough that the object of Richie’s misguided infatuation glanced over at him. His eyes widened, a minute action but magnified under the intensity of Richie’s gaze, before he looked away, before he looked back at the man whose arm he was nestled under, and pointedly didn’t look at Richie again.

Cruel hope reared its ugly head once more upon Richie’s realisation that the man with the sandy hair and the laughter lines that Richie had studied so often never sat quite as close to his hulking brute boyfriend again.

– X –

12th June 2003 // 8:34pm

Jasper was ignoring him. He was jabbing at his phone obnoxiously, body angled away from Eddie’s deliberately. He didn’t notice when Eddie stood up, and moved to the seat across the aisle. He didn’t notice when Eddie collapsed in on himself, supernova turned supermassive black hole. He didn’t notice when Eddie stood up once more, and left the train at the next stop.

But someone did.

– X –

13th July 2003 // 06:56am

“Oh, is that him?!” Mike asked loudly, pointing at the sandy-haired stranger who was standing on the opposite side of the carriage. A riptide of embarrassment crashed through Richie’s body.

“Don’t fucking point at him, Jesus Christ!”

– X –

13th July 2003 // 06:58am

“Don’t fucking point at him, Jesus Christ!”

Against his better judgement, a sapling of a smile sprouted on Eddie’s face, a smile that was watered and nurtured by the frenzied muttering of the stranger to his sniggering friend, a smile that bloomed openly, proudly, towards the sun.

– X –

25th July 2003 // 07:23am

A scrap of paper floats through the air like ash after an eruption, and lands neatly on Eddie’s lap. It’s the corner of an old newspaper, and Eddie can vaguely make out the words, ‘the senator has issued a statement staunchly denying the ….”. Other than that, the scrap is entirely, utterly, unremarkable. Eddie gripped the paper between his thumb and forefinger, and then, only then, did he notice the scribbled handwriting on the other side.

‘I read this when I was 15. Couldn’t sleep for a week, totally ruined my kid sisters birthday party when the clown arrived and I took off screaming”

A tiny, menacing looking clown peers up at Eddie from where it has been drawn hastily in the corner with a chicken-scrawl scratch.

At the bottom of the scrap, is a tiny,  so tiny Eddie almost misses it, ‘R’.

– X –

27th August 2003 // 06:59am

Richie leaves notes on the lap of the man with the kind, tired eyes for exactly a month, and not once, never once, does he receive one in return. They range from commentary about the book the other man is reading, or about what Richie ate for dinner the night before, or once, after Richie had wracked his fatigued brain for the entire journey to little avail, a not-entirely-true ‘I saw a squirrel that reminded me of you yesterday.”

Richie chalks the lack of reciprocation up to the fact that the stranger’s journey extends beyond his. Every morning, Richie disembarks the train before the stranger, who continues on to some unknowable destination. Never once does the stranger get off before Richie.

Until he does.

An entirely unremarkable Tuesday morning skates straight into the most bizarre experience of Richie’s short life when, at a stop he couldn’t name, one the train sails straight through each morning without fanfare, the stranger with the green-gold eyes stands up. He stands up, and practically runs in Richie’s direction, and throws a very neatly folded piece of lined paper into Richie’s lap. Then, before the doors can entrap him once more, the stranger is gone.

Richie watches him dart away, up the slimy slick stairs of the nameless subway station.

I’m going to be late to work because of this. The only words on the piece of paper, I’m going to be late to work because of this. Richie checks it once, twice, thrice, but all that he finds are those ten words.

Ten words Richie treasures for the next ten years.

– X –

1st September 2003 // 06:26am

With his fringe caked to his forehead with sweat, Eddie trips down the stairs to the subway platform blindly, boarding the train on autopilot. Unusually for a Wednesday, Eddie has to push his way on past hordes of people that jostle and shove at each other as the train breaks into a sprint towards the next station, and then the next, and then the next, and then it’s his stop. He’ll be getting on soon.

A bead of sweat chases down between Eddie’s shoulder blades. He shivers. His hand is slick on the hand rail.

And then he’s on. They’re closer than they’ve ever been. They come together like drift wood, pushed closer and closer still by the indifferent tide of people. The stranger stumbles, and his hand shoots out, grabbing at the hand rail that Eddie clings to. Their fingers are but centimetres away from each other now, and it’s too close, too close for Eddie and his fragile heart to bare, but then he’s falling, closer and closer, and closer.

“Fucking watch it! Fucking idiot, I’m fucking standing here!” he yells, and the teenager who just sent him flying forwards into the chest of the stranger with the now bemused eyes flips him off.

“Fucking child! Asshole,” Eddie says, no longer talking to the teenager but instead airing his frustration at the ceiling that just stares dumbly back at him.

The stranger is laughing.

– X –

1st September 2003 // 06:54am

“Fucking watch it! Fucking idiot, I’m fucking standing here!”

Richie laughs. He can’t help it. The other man stares up at him, anger vanishing from his face, chased away by an embarrassment that lingers.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks, and it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. The stranger eyes him cautiously.

“Yes, fine thanks,” is all he says, and Richie gulps it down, parched.

– X –

2nd September 2003 // 06:47am

A note lands in Richie’s lap.

Dinner?

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Dating Beverly Marsh Would Include...

Requested: [I'm sorry I can't remember who requested this or if this was an anon, I'm sorry!] Hey, could I request some headcanons about dating Beverly? (Also if you could add in the reader having homophobic parents 💕)

Warnings: obviously there will be homophobia, [at the end so people can skip if they need to read safely 😊] specifically from the readers parents so please feel free to skip if need be. And remember my blog is a safe space 💕 oh yeah theres also plenty of grammar/spelling errors i'm sure

A//n: This was WAY longer than I anticipated. I just kept coming up with more stuff and holy crap I love writing Bev x readers???? Please request more Bev Edit: this was in my drafts forever and again as much as i have been trying to get requests out in order, it's been pretty tough but at least this way stuff gets out sooner so here ya go.

Okay

First of all..

Y'all make the CUTEST COUPLE, OKAY?!

Like no joke

You know that cliche about girls stealing their boyfriends hoodies/clothes??

Well that goes for both of you and you both are always swapping clothes cause you both love each other's sense of style

Plus, ya know, it's got that great boyfriend girlfriend smell

It's cheesy and played out, but it's honestly so wholesome, and again, you guys each have an interest in each others senses of styles

If you're bigger than her, and her clothes don't necessarily fit you, pfffttt no big deal, she had a million blankets that smelled like her and then you two got together and now she can only find like,, two. But that doesn't mean she doesn't love stealing your clothes!! They're baggier on her but oH MY GOODNESS DOES SHE LOVE THAT. She just loves being able to completely immerse herself in your stuff. Especially when she isn't feeling safe in her own home and you aren't around, the best thing for her is to wrap herself in her your stuff and be comforted by you. Uggh, its hella sweet

But let's start from the beginning...

Both of you knew about each other from school

You definitely heard the many rumors about "Beaver-ly Marsh"

Not that you participated, but you were always overhearing rumors from gossiping girls and bragging boys in your class

Your school wasn't huge but it wasn't small either

But it was kill or be be killed, and rumors spread like the damn plague

It was inevitable

And it was just a matter of time before you overheard the several rumors of the "slut" who did it with every guy in school.

You'd roll you're eyes at the word and the ridiculous insinuations, knowing the massively overplayed game of telephone that ruled your school was not necessary the most credible source of information

And you were positive there were rumors about you, I mean, it really wasn't possible to go to that school without a rumor going around

Everyone had one

Anyways, you never paid much attention to them, but then you met her...

And oh no.

Immediately, it was:

You already never paid much mind to the rumors, but when you got to know each other??

Nuh uh.

No way

Not Beverly

No no no no, no

She was way too sweet, and shy, and beautiful, and awesome, and funny, annnd oh no the damn butterflies were back and shit she made you feel things

And you??

Bevery had no clue she was into girls until you came along...

You were her gay awakening and her being so used to all those nasty things people said about her and all those boys??

Even though it wasn't true, any of it, she still always expected that eventually one day she'd get her first boyfriend, to love and cuddle with and everything normal

Again, then you came along and her heart was all like

BOOM BOOM BEECH

You both danced around each other a lot. Seeing as you were two precious little gay beans that lived in a conservative town in the 80s, it wasn't exactly the most accepting environment and you guys didn't know if the other was into girls at all

On both sides it was "does she like me or is she just really laid back and friendly???"

It took way too long to figure out you were both into each other

If I'm being completely honest here, y'all were like the female reddie

Two girls who became best friends and always bickered like crazy to hide your feelings

The way you two found out you had feelings for one another was bumpy and awkward but silly and cute nonetheless

It came off in a passing comment that just slipped out

The two of you were having a sleepover like you did every Friday night you were available

and you two were laying on her bedroom floor talking about anything and everything staring at the ceiling

Her radio was playing in the background and the two of you were surrounded by various snacks you had been munching on all throughout the night and the conversation drifted to gossip about your peers at school

It went a little something like this:

Y: "Did you see so and so today??"

B: "Yes!!"

Y: *laughing* "Yeah, what the hell was that?"

B: I have no idea what goes on in her head...

B: but I guess I gotta give her some credit, she's always super confident and I'm like, 90% sure that's what makes her the most desirable girl in the 8th grade"

Y: "I guess that makes sense"

B: "I do wish I had her confidence. Maybe I'd have better luck romantically"

Y: "Oh please, like you need that. You're infinitely more attractive than her"

B: "What?"

Y: *panicked* "What?"

B: *slowly sits up with smug ass smirk on her lips* are you saying you find me... attractive?"

Y: ..."what?" *sweating*

B: *still smirking* "Wait,"

Y: "WhAT?"

B: *stILL smirking* "do you-?"

Y: *full on gay panic* "No!"

B: *smirking and blushing*

B: *lays back down* "well, I think you're pretty attractive yourself, if it's any consolation"

She's still so nervous though so it comes out in a whisper

She's 99 percent certain you just accidentally revealed your crush to her but her heart was p o u n d i n g anyway

What if it just came out wrong and that's why you panicked???

Had she just revealed her crush to you by mistake???

But no

You both were a blushing mess and it did not go unnoticed by either one of you

You're hands kinda accidently brushed and you both just had a heart attack on the spot

But the connection you two had that night

You both just... knew

You guys kinda just... happened

After that you both were aware you liked each other

But it was kind of unspoken

At first

It's not like you guys never talked about it, but you two definitely became more touchy and flirty

Holding hands when no one was looking

Shortly before you guys happened and before that night, she had introduced you to losers and they just totally accepted you as one of their own

You got along especially well with Richie (wonder why)

But Bev wasn't too happy about this particular fact...

Especially after you two got together

She wasn't necessarily jealous, especially cause she already had a sneaking suspicion about his feelings for another loser, but because he took up a lot of her time with you

But then, to her chagrin, Richie found out about you two

the eight of you were hanging out in the clubhouse, and Ben had to make some adjustments so him and the others left momentarily to help him get the resources

Except you, and Bev

You two volunteered to hold down the fort [literally]

aaaaaaand you two wanted to have a few minutes alone together too,

Nothing scandalous or anything like that, but you two didn't get be close around the losers

Then Richie returned way earlier than expected [turns out he was doing more harm than good and they sent him back]

He was just outside the entrance and he overheard you two

"I wish we could tell them,"

"I know. And it's not that I don't think they'll accept us, it's-" *sigh* "I'm just not ready... I'm sorry"

"Don't be. It's okay, we can tell them when we're both good and ready."

"Thank you, Y/n."

Richie just kinda stood there thinking about what he just heard

I mean, it made sense, you guys were really close, but then again, that's just how he thought all girls were

But everything else kinda made more sense the more he thought about it

And, it honestly reminded him of him and Eddie

More specifically, how he felt about his best friend

Now naturally this was a very emotional moment, but Richie Tozier being Richie Tozier wasn't about to waltz in there and give some sappy speech about he accepts you guys and he's here for you no matter what

No, no, no

He laid down on the forest floor, sticking his head in the clubhouse scaring the shit out of you two and said

"You guys should really be more quiet, Ben may be a suspiciously good overnight kid architect sensation but he has yet to soundproof this baby"

He then stuck his arm inside the clubhouse, patting the ceiling, shaking a couple spiders loose from his his hand in disgust

"Richie...!"

You two jumped apart and you about nearly shit your pants

"Relax, I'm not gonna tell anyone,"

You both were startled as hell and absolutely disgruntled but the two of you looked at each other, simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief

He got up and joined you two in the clubhouse, and began lounging in his usual spot in the hammock, arms behind his head

"So, this means you two are both into girls, huh?"

Once again, you looked at one another and back at him, nodding shyly

He plastered on the most mischievous smirk you had ever seen and nodded his head, his huge eyes squinting slightly from behind his glasses

"niceee"

This of course was followed by simultaneous eye rolls, Bev even threw her gum wrapper at him but you laughed

It was a relieved laugh

Here you were, exposed and unintentionally outed to Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier and sure enough his reaction was "nICE"

It was honestly a relief and kinda hilarious

You guys just kinda broke out into laughter

It was nice moment

***TRIGGER WARNING FOR [PARENTAL] HOMOPHOBIA BELOW***

And for a while, everything was great. That was, until your parents began to take note just how much time you were spending with Bev

They kept an eye on it at first

Then they started asking questions

You knew this day would come one way or another

Hell, you grew up with them after all, you knew what they thought about people like you and it broke your heart

It terrified you

And it's exactly what you heard every night when you tried to fall asleep, their voices speaking to you clear as day; how disgusted they were. They weren't really there of course and it wasn't until you became a loser that you found out what that voice was...

The point is, your deepest fear was being realized so you did what you could do

Lie

And it seemed to work. Briefly

Your mother had come in to check on you two for the fifth time - usually she checked on you two four times since their suspicions - and found you two snuggled up on top of your sleeping bags

Your mother screamed, scaring the crap out of you guys and you jumped apart

Your mother was thrown into hysterics and went to fetch your father, wailing like a damn baby

Needless to say that night was a long one for everyone

And as if things couldn't get any worse, just days later you found out that Beverly had been taken by It

Immediately, every doubt, every fear, every inkling of shame your parents and your community had drilled into you was forgotten and all that mattered was getting her back

You and your friends literally went through hell to get her back

Needless to say it was a terrifying ordeal but you all had each other's backs and everyone came out okay

When you left Neibolt, you and Beverly were hand in hand

You couldn't give a flying fck about it, you just fought a shape-shifting demon clown you could face your small minded parents

And more importantly you knew even if your parents didn't support you, you had other people who did that and that was enough

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Hope you enjoyed, sorry it's so long and again this is out of order of who requested it so I'm sorry to those of you who had stuff in before this, but I've just been stuck for too long and I needed to get things moving again. Anyways, I hoped you guys like this and again, omg I love writing Beverly!!! I would not be offended if you guys asked for more Bev fics/hc when I open up requests again

[ddproductionsw77]

Ain’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be

Fandom: IT Chapters One & Two

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak), mentions of Stenbrough and Benverly

Characters: (Major) Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, (Minor) Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, Mike Hanlon, (Minor OCs) Sandy Montgomery, Berkeley Wells, Donny Stills

Rating: I mean… T? (I guess there is some heavy suggestion and hard language so M is that offends you)

Description: Richie is almost 3,000 miles away from Eddie when he has a run in with an ex-girlfriend (Aged-Up to college)

Author’s Note: Wow… this got long… Sorry??

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May 1997

Richie threw one shirt after the other from his side of the closet into the suitcase sitting on the bed beside his boyfriend. As he did, Eddie plucked each one up, folding it neatly before replacing it in the suitcase.

“Eight weeks,” Eddie sighed, picking up Richie’s favorite black hoodie with holes all along the cuffs of the sleeves, in the pockets and cigarette burns here and there. Fucking disaster. “We’ve never been apart that long before.”

Richie glanced over his shoulder, throwing a black Dark Side Of The Moon t-shirt at Eddie’s face, “Come on, Eds, don’t get all clingy on me now.”

“I’m not being clingy, asshole!” Eddie snapped, “Eight weeks is a long fucking time! And don’t call me that.”

“Eight weeks is not a long fucking time, Eddie,” Richie scoffed, turning around to give his boyfriend a look, “I’ll be back at the end of July and and you’ll barely have had time to miss me.”

Eddie nibbled at his lip, folding the god awful hoodie up and throwing it in the suitcase with everything else. He looked up to Richie, who was smirking at him with his usual infuriatingly cute smirk. Glaring in response, he said, “You’ll be across the country for two months. We’ve hardly been apart longer than a couple of weeks since we were five, and especially not in the last five years, so fucking excuse me for thinking that I might just miss you. Apparently, you won’t miss me.”

Richie laughed, only to have a pair of jeans thrown at him, “Hey, hey, c’mon, Eds. I’m sorry, okay, but that was just fucking ridiculous.” Eddie continued to glare as Richie went on, “Of course I’ll miss you. I am clingy, Spaghetti Man, remember? I blame my mommy and daddy issues. Being away is gonna fucking blow but…” He shrugged, looking sincere for a moment, “I gotta go.”

Eddie finished folding the last t-shirt and nodded, “Yeah, I know. I’d be fucking furious with you if you didn’t go. It’s just,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “It’s LA, Richie.”

Richie glanced away, knowing exactly what Eddie was getting at.

He and Eddie had been dating nearly five years… if you didn’t count a short—very fucking short—break-up right before they finished high school three years prior. It was so short, it shouldn’t even fucking count but it had still happened. And it had happened because Richie had thought—barely even contemplated—going to college at UCLA instead of following Eddie to NYU.

With a sigh, he shook his head, “It’s LA for a killer eight week internship; I’m not going to stay and finish up my B.A. there or anything, Eds.”

“That’s not funny, dickwad,” Eddie glowered as Richie carried on, unfazed.

“I’ll get actual air time, Eddie. On the actual radio, not just the shitty campus radio gig I got now where only ten people tune in and six of them are Losers.” Richie reasoned for the umpteenth time. He was starting to loose track of the times he and Eddie had had this exact conversation since he’d first applied for the damn thing.

“I know that, Richie,” Eddie said, standing up from the bed, “I want you to go. Still fucking sucks.”

Richie half smiled, “Totally blows ass.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile. Laughing, he stepped forward, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and kissing him with everything he could. Richie gripped Eddie’s hips with an equal desperation, holding him in place against him.

Reaching up, Eddie tangled his fingers into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck and purposefully tugged, knowing exactly how much it drove Richie crazy. Richie responded just how Eddie had wanted him to, gasping into their kiss.

Pulling away, Richie breathlessly groaned, “No fucking fair.”

“Too damn bad,” Eddie challenged, looking into Richie’s darkened eyes with his own.

There was a moment that they just stared each other, each waiting and wondering what move the other was going to make and when. Then, as if they’d planned it, they crashed back together, Eddie hooking his arms around Richie neck and Richie lifted him and Eddie wrapped his legs around his waist. They pressed together, kissing despite already being lightheaded.

Slowly, Richie moved them over to the bed, breaking apart only to carefully lay Eddie down, tossing his t-shirt off before climbing on top of him. Eddie laughed, reaching up to softly trail his fingertips over the familiar plains of his boyfriend’s chest. Slipping his hand up behind Richie’s neck, he pulled him down for another searing kiss before breaking apart again just to sit up and rid himself of his shirt as well, tossing it to the floor beside Richie’s.

Laying back down, the two tangled together. Richie’s hands moved down to Eddie’s leg, moving it to hook around his as he propped himself up on his elbow. Eddie reached between them, his hand tugging at the waist of Richie’s jeans. Breaking away, he gasped, “These need to go.”

Richie laughed, nodding.

He stood, quickly undoing his fly and looking back at his boyfriend, laying before him, waiting and watching. He paused, taking in every detail of Eddie he could to commit it to memory, engrave it into his mind. His stomach twisted at the thought of leaving all this in just twelve hours. And then to be with out it for two months.

Two months before he saw the freckles along Eddie’s collar bones or the way his hair got messed up from rolling around in bed, the warmth of his skin or the softness of his ear, his cool fingertips… His chest clenched.

Below him, Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, cocking his head, “Richie, what’s wrong?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Richie shook his head, throat burning, “I’m gonna miss you, baby.”

Eddie’s heart raced faster, the way it always did when Richie called him baby, and he felt a lump from in his throat as he nodded, “Yeah,” He bit his lip hard, looking into Richie’s chocolate brown eyes for a long, long moment before whispering, softly, “Show me. Show me how much you’ll miss me.”

In an instant, Richie was back on top of him and they were kissing with a desperation they would never acknowledge or admit to later. Reaching out, they intertwined their hands over Eddie’s head, barely breaking to breathe.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eleven and a half hours later, a group of seven stood in a huddle to themselves in JFK Airport. Beverly was hugging Richie for the third time while Ben and Eddie looked on, glumly. Mike, Bill and Stanley stood a little away, Bill and Stan’s hands linked between then as the three of them made small talk.

“American Airlines, flight 27 to LAX, now boarding.” A monotone voice over their heads dulled out.

Richie looked up at a nearby speaker over Bev’s head and quipped sarcastically, “Well, she sounds great.”

“Richie,” Eddie warned as Richie and Beverly parted. Richie grinned at his boyfriend and shrugged, looking around at the others who were watching him.

“Guess this is it,” Richie shrugged, drumming his hand on the thigh of his jeans nervously. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“It w-won’t be the same without you, Trashmouth,” Bill smiled lightly and clapped Richie on the shoulder before returning to his boyfriend’s side.

Stan glanced at Bill before looking back at Richie, nodding, “Yeah, it’ll be like a two month long vacation.”

Richie threw a hand over his heart, “Oh, Stanley! You wound me!” Stan rolled his eyes silently before Richie grinned and gestured for him, “Get over here, Stanley Urine.”

Stanley groaned but moved forward, hugging Richie quickly before quirking a smile and  saying, “I hate you.”

Mike hugged Richie tight, patting him on the back a few times before dropping his arms. Before he could step away though, Richie gripped his arm and leaned forward, “Look out for Eds for me, okay? You’re his best friend, you know,” He shrugged, “Besides me, obviously.”

Mike laughed and nodded, “Of course, Rich.”

Ben reached out to squeeze the boy’s arm, saying sadly, “I think I’ll actually miss you too, Richie. But at least I’ll save on groceries with you not coming over to steal food.”

“Haystack! Never have I ever!” Richie faked offense before hugging Ben quickly, “Yeah, I guess I’ll miss you too.”

Beverly stepped forward, taking one of Richie’s hands in hers and staring into his eyes to make sure she kept his attention, “You’ll call me the second you finish your first day tomorrow, right? I mean, after you talk to Eddie?”

“Yes, Bevvy,” Richie answered dutifully.

“And if you find any really good weed, you’ll sneak me back some, right?”

“Yes, Bevvy,”

The red head nodded, reaching out with her free hand to smack Richie’s cheek once before stepping up and lightly kissing the other. “I’ll see you soon, friend.”

“I’ll see you soon, Red,” Richie nodded, dropping Beverly’s hand before looking over beside him only to find Eddie staring back at him.

Bill glanced between the two and cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets, “E-Eddie, we’ll be by the car when you’re ready.”

Eddie half nodded and neither he nor Richie paid attention as the Losers filed away. He stepped forward, resting his hands on Richie’s chest where a Sergeant Pepper’s logo was printed. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he whispered, lightly, “You’re going to be back.”

It wasn’t a question but Richie still answered, reaching up to lace his fingers with Eddie’s, nodding, “I swear to God.” Bring Eddie’s hands to his lips he kissed them gently, “I love you, Eds... You’re not getting rid of me for a long time.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched and he tightened his grip momentarily, “Good...” He finally brought his eyes up to Richie’s, meeting his gaze as he slipped one hand free to rest of the other’s cheek, “I love you, too.”

Richie felt his heart skip a beat. Eddie didn’t say the L-O-V-E word willy nilly like Richie tended to. Richie knew Eddie’s feelings, had no doubts in them whatsoever but it still caught him a bit off guard when he heard Eddie speak them aloud. Grinning, he ducked his head down and kissed Eddie hard before pulling away.

“I gotta go,” He said softly and Eddie nodded. Picking up the suitcase beside him, Richie wanted till the last second to let go of Eddie’s hand before turning and walking to his gate.

_______________________________________________________________________

June 1997

After finishing his first week in LA, Richie knew he’d made the right choice. Los Angeles... it was incredible. People in LA didn’t look twice at him, didn’t give him looks or roll there eyes in distaste. People in LA actually socialized and talked and, best of all, partied. Every night after he got done with his small, hour long segment before the prime time host came on, Richie went out to a new bar or club with his fellow interns, Berkeley and Donny.

They’d decided on a club with a Rolling Stones cover band playing for that night’s adventure, heading out together.

Berkeley was—no surprise—born and raised in California, about to finish her last year at UCLA, which Richie had commented on multiple time. She was pretty enough and quite good for killing time with bantering and joking but she was no Beverly Marsh. Still, Richie liked her okay.

Donny was from Washington and had moved for college, attending Butler University somewhere in Indiana. The kid was so high most of the time, Richie found it hard to believe that he’d just graduated with honors and took the internship as resume filler. Still, occasionally, Donny was capable of surprising, like fixing a glitch in the queue system at the station in ten minutes flat.

Walking down the sidewalk, Richie glanced over at Berkeley, “Hey, so this friend of yours, you sure he can pull this off? This show is supposedly sold out.”

“She, Richie,” Berkeley rolled her eyes, “And yes. If you knew her, you wouldn’t even ask.”

They reached the club, finding a line of people standing and waiting. Berkeley held her head up and confidently led the way for Richie and Donny to the front. The bouncer gave her a look. Berk flashed him a smile, “Berkeley Wells, Donny Stills, and Richie Tozier. We were invited by Sandy.”

Richie cocked his head to the side, something in the back of his mind trying to come forward... he didn’t know what.

The bouncer nodded, gesturing them forward. As they passed, he leaned down and whispered something to Berkeley, who smiled and nodded. Once they were in Richie was reminded again just how many people were in the world. The place was packed, music playing over the speakers but nothing live as the band hadn’t started up yet.

Berkeley grinned and turn around, yelling at the two of them, “Follow me!”

Richie looked at Donny but the only guy only shrugged and took off after Berkeley. With a sigh, Richie trailed behind, making sure not to lose sight of Berk’s platinum blonde hair in the crowd. She lead them to a door marked ‘Employees Only’ and pushed her way in. Following, Richie found it slightly quieter back stage.

“What are we doing, Berk?” Donny asked, not sounding so much concerned as curious.

“My friend invited us back stage,” She shrugged, “Might be cool to meet the band before they go on.”

Richie rolled his eyes, “You realize this isn’t actually Keith Richards and Mick Jagger, right? They’re a cover band, not all that exciting to meet.”

“You’re lucky none of them can hear you, Trashmouth, they’d demand I throw you out,” A voice said behind him, familiar and instantly identifiable. Suddenly, the little voice in the back of his head, that thought that had tried to present itself to him, became clear and he knew exactly who it was standing behind him.

Richie whirled around and stopped dead in his tracks, “Sandy?”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Sandy? Sandy Montgomery?” Beverly exclaimed into the phone. “As in Sexy Sandy? Your ex-girlfriend?!”

Richie laughed, shaking his head, “God, I forgot that nickname.”

“Richie, this is not funny!” Bev snapped, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, “What happened when you saw her?”

“Nothing much,” Richie shrugged, stretching the phone cord as he laid back on his motel bed, “All the normal bullshit you say, I missed you, you look great, how are you. Yada yada.”

“You did not tell her she looked great, Richard,” Beverly groaned, shaking her head.

Richie’s eyebrows drew together, “Actually I said ‘totally banging’ but—“

“Richie,” Beverly took a deep breath, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Ben was still in the kitchen and Mike down the hall in his room. Lowering her voice, she sighed, “You didn’t… You didn’t flirt with her, right? Because flirting with Sandy is not like flirting with me or Stan or Mike. You have to see that.”

He shifted on his bed, sitting up against the headboard, “My flirting isn’t real flirting unless it’s with Eddie.”

“Sandy won’t see it that way and if he finds out, neither will Eddie,” Beverly snapped, “Richie, he’s trusting you. Don’t fuck that up because you will never forgive yourself.”

“Bev, I’m not fucking anything up, okay? Jesus, ye of little faith,” Richie sighed, swallowing before saying carefully, “I know he’s trusting me. I’m not doing anything to compromise that. I swear, Beverly.”

“Then why did you call me? Why not Eddie?” Beverly asked, biting her lip.

Richie’s mouth fell open, eyebrows drawing together, “That’s not—“

Beverly sighed, “Richie, I love you and I always will but just… be careful, okay? And please, please, please call Eddie. Tell him you saw Sandy.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever, Bev,” Richie cocked his head to the side, “I love you too, by the way. Always will.”

“Bye, Trashmouth.”

“Talk to you later, Red.”

Hanging up, Richie rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the phone. It had only been about four hours since he’d talked to Eddie but Beverly’s words gave him the itch to call again. Was it really that big a deal that he ran into Sandy? They’d dated five and a half years ago, Eddie couldn’t seriously be threatened by some girl from years back… right?

Shrugging, he picked up the phone again and dialed the number for his and Eddie’s apartment. It rang a few times before the machine picked it up.

You’ve reached—Richie! Stop it, I’m doing something!— You’ve reach Eddie and—

Richie!

And Richie, leave a message and we will call you back.

Or we won’t. Don’t get your hopes up too high.

BEEP

Smiling at the outgoing message they’d taken an hour to record when they’d first found their dinky little place in the Village, Richie sighed and said, “Hey, Eds, it’s me. I just— I don’t know, I guess I missed you. I miss you. Just, uh, give me a call back when you get home, okay? I’m skipping out on the partying tonight so don’t worry, I’ll be here. So, yeah, call me. Love you.”

Dropping back on the bed, Richie let his eyes drift close.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eddie rolled his shoulders, trying in vain to rid himself of some of the knots in his back. He’d been put on stock duty for his entire shift today and was expected back The Village Grocery at 6AM sharp the next morning.

He’d had to start picking up extra time here and there when he could, having to pay two months rent and bills with only his pay. He knew Richie would send money to help if he knew but Eddie also knew Richie needed the internship money for his own living conditions in Los Angeles. They’d discussed it before Richie left and this was just how it had to play out.

Dropping his duffle that he kept his ID and uniform in off at the laundry, Eddie made his way to the kitchen to start a late dinner, as it was already 8:30. Getting some water boiling, Eddie noticed the red light blinking on the answering machine. He reached over and hit the ‘playback’ button.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s Stan. Bill and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner this weekend. Let us know either way, talk to you soon.”

Eddie glanced at the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge and sighed, seeing he was working from noon to midnight on both Saturday and Sunday.

The was another beep and then the next message began.

“Hey, Eds, it’s me.” Eddie stopped, his head whirling around to look at the machine, as if he would somehow find Richie standing there and not just his voice. “I just— I don’t know, I guess I missed you. I miss you. Just, uh, give me a call back when you get home, okay? I’m skipping out on the partying tonight so don’t worry, I’ll be here. So, yeah, call me. Love you.”

Grinning to himself, Eddie looked at the clock and quickly calculated the time difference. Nodding to himself, he picked up the phone and dialed the number hastily written on a sticky note on the counter. The phone rang once, twice, and then there was a click as the call connected.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s just about the rudest way to answer the phone,” Eddie teased, smiling in spite of himself.

“Eddie Spaghetti! My Love, you called me back.” Richie grinned as well nearly 3,000 miles away.

He nodded even though he knew it was pretty pointless over the phone, “You asked me to, so yeah. I did.”

“Aww, you love me!”

“Shut up! Why did you call? I'm not complaining or anything but we just talked on my break,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I just forgot to tell you something earlier and Beverly got all on my ass about it so I figured I’d just call you back. Get the added bonus of talking to you twice in one day.” Richie sighed, “How much longer?”

“Six weeks… That’s 42 days to be exact,” Eddie glanced over at the calendar again where each day had a small number in the bottom right side corner. The countdown… Shaking his head at himself, Eddie cleared his throat, “What’d you want to tell me?”

“Oh, right, that,” Richie sounded apprehensive and Eddie could almost see him in his mind’s eye, picking at his cuticles or drumming his fingers against his thigh. Richie was basically just a bundle of nervous ticks. “I just… I saw Sandy last week. At a club. Well, she kind of invited me to the club. Not me me, really but yeah. I didn’t get the big fucking deal but Bev made it sound like I deserved a big ass red A on my chest or something.”

Eddie fell back to lean against the counter, crossing his free arm over his chest, “S—Sandy?” He heard how strangled he sounded and quickly cleared his throat, “Sandy Montgomery?”

“Yeah, she went to UCLA, remember? She’s two years older us? Well, she’s got this gig out here at a club, booking bands and stuff. It’s almost exactly what she used to always talk about doing. She knew one of the other interns I work with so she invited all of us and yeah…”

“I didn’t know she went to UCLA… Have— have you, uh, seen her since then?” Eddie asked, his heart pounding in his throat. Sandy was in LA with his boyfriend. Out of all the girls Richie had dated before him, why did it have to be Sandy? Sandy with her gorgeous, curly brown hair that fell down her back and always had that one stupid braid tucked behind her ear, everyday woven with a different color of stupid ribbon? Sandy, who’s stupid bright green eyes were like sky diving into a lash rainforest? That Sandy?

Richie laughed, “No, I mean, now that I’ve been trained on more around the station I don’t have as much time for the club scene so haven’t been back. But, c’mon, Eds, even if I saw her again, you know it wouldn’t even be a thing, right?”

“She was the only long term relationship you had.” Eddie argued before he could stop himself.

He heard a long pause before Richie said, slowly, “Before you. I was fucking sixteen when it ended, Eddie. It was for-fucking-ever ago.”

Eddie nodded and in the logical parts of himself, he knew all of that. He knew it’d been almost five and a half years since Richie dated Sandy but…

He dated her for seven whole months. Almost all of Sophomore year… She was the only other person Eddie knew of that Richie had been in love with. He vividly remembered the day Richie had shown up at Bill’s house for movie night in Sophomore year and exclaimed to all of them that he was completely obsessed, in love, devoted. It had been one of the worst days of his life.

Sighing in an annoyed tone, Eddie snapped back, “You know there is, like, 4 million people in all of LA and you manage to find the one girl who lives there that you’ve fucked. I’m almost impressed.”

Richie groaned in Eddie ear, “Are you seriously going to be pissed at me about this?”

Eddie bit his lip, closing his eyes and counting down before shaking his head, “No, I’m not pissed! I— I trust you, it just sucks. All of it.”

Richie was quiet for a second and Eddie wished he could see him, could watch him and observe him. Richie spoke half the time in body language alone and there was only so much Eddie could picture in his head. Finally, he spoke, “Fucking sucks, for sure. I wouldn’t— I would never— You have to know— You know?”

Eddie’s heart clenched at the worried, fearful tone Richie’s voice had taken on. Even almost 3,000 miles apart, he knew exactly what his boyfriend was struggling to say.

I wouldn’t do that to you. I would never betray your trust. You have to know that I love you too much for that.

He nodded and said, “I know.”

“Good,” Richie sounded instantly relieved, “I’ll let you go but I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Eddie smiled.

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you, nothing’s gonna change that.”

“I know. Me too.”

_______________________________________________________________________

July 1997

Richie laughed and shook his head, reaching over to turn up the music on the stereo beside him to block out the noises coming from down the hall of Berkeley’s apartment where she and Donny had just disappeared.

A laugh rang out, as Sandy shook her head on the couch across the living room, “Berk’s a real class act, huh?”

“Donny said weed makes him horny but I didn’t believe him since he’s high, like, ninety percent of the time,” Richie shook his head, leaning against the wall. “God, they’ve probably fucked at work!”

“They’ve totally fucked at work,” Sandy nodded, laughing again at his expression, “And I’m not just saying that, Berkeley’s told me.”

Richie sighed, looking away. He had not planned to be spending one-on-one time with Sandy Montgomery that night. He’d thought he’d just be getting high over at Berk’s place with her and Donny after work. He hadn’t known Berk had invited Sandy or that Sandy had agreed. He couldn’t be blamed for just trying to be civil, talking to her. Eddie couldn’t get pissed about this, right?

Sandy turned to fully face him, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t bite, Trashmouth.”

Before he could stop himself, Richie quipped, “From what I remember, that’s a lie.” He immediately cringed at himself. He just couldn’t fucking shut himself off, could he?

Sandy smirked, looking away and shaking her head at him, “What I mean is you can sit down, I won’t jump your bones,” Her eyes flickered back to him, shrugging, “Unless you want me to.”

Richie swallowed and shook his head, “San, I abso-fucking-lutely can not do that.”

“San? God! No one’s called me that in years!” She laughed, shaking her head, “But you always had to come up with your little nicknames, didn’t you, Rich?”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, “What have you been up to?” He changed the subject, remaining right where he was leaning against the wall.

Noting this, Sandy rolled her eyes, “Honestly, I’ve just been going to school and then working since we last saw each other. And doing this,” She gestured around to the loud stereo and unrolled weed on the coffee table, “Having fun.”

Richie nodded, “I’d fucking hope so. Because I can’t picture a version of Sandra Montgomery that doesn’t know how to have some fun.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sandy challenged.

He shrugged, “Fair enough.”

They fell silent and Richie almost wished that Donny and Berkeley were still going at it loud and proud just to give him something to laugh about. There was just an awkwardness instead. The awkwardness that probably always fell between two people who had once regularly seen each other naked and now hadn’t in years.

“Richie?” Sandy asked, standing up.

He looked at her, “Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you follow me to LA? Where were you three years ago?” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, “We said that was the plan, didn’t we? LA, once you graduated and we’d make it work, together. So, where were you?”

Richie stared at her before looking at his feet. He had said all that, hadn’t he? He’d almost forgotten, he’d never told anyone about that, not even Beverly or Eddie or Stan. But those were the promises of a boy, not who he was now.

He looked back up at her, “I was in New York. All us Losers go to school there. I’m at NYU.”

“Richie, I waited,” She exclaimed, frustration clear in her voice, “I waited two years for you to call or write or show up and you didn’t.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” He argued, shaking his head, “I didn’t wait. I moved on.”

“Moved on?” She echoed, stepping forward, “But we both said—“

“I was sixteen, Sandy! Things have fucking changed since then and maybe I should have wrote or called but it wouldn’t have made any damn difference! We were over when you left,” Richie argued, standing up straight.

Sandy looked away, lips pursed, “You were supposed to follow me.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t fucking want to anymore,” Richie shrugged, “Sorry for saying that, but it’s the truth. I applied to UCLA, I got in and I didn’t fucking want to go.”

“Why not?” Sandy yelled, “Forget about me, what about getting as fucking far away from Derry as possible? New York is like a three hour fucking drive from Derry! Why there?”

“Because of Eddie!” Richie yelled back before sighed and shaking his head, “Because Eddie was going to New York.”

“Eddie?” Sandy said, quieter, looking taken aback before nodding, “Eddie, of course.” She licked her lips and looked back at him, “So you finally figured that out, did you?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Richie gave her a look.

“He was crushed out on you even back when I was around. I thought you knew that,” Sandy cocked her head, “I used to think you’d spend time with him just to piss me off. Make me jealous.”

“What? No!” Richie looked confused, “He was my best friend, he still is, that’s why I spent time with him.”

Sandy hummed, “But I was still right back then, wasn’t I? He was more than just your best friend wasn’t he?”

“Not while we were dating, no,” Richie shook his head, “Why does everyone think I’m a fucking cheat?”

She laughed, lightly, “I don’t think you cheated on me. At least not on purpose. But you had feelings for Eddie when we were together, didn’t you?”

He looked at her, shrugging, “I’ve basically always had feelings for Eddie.”

“See?” Sandy gestured to him, “So, you could never give me everything.”

Richie took a moment to think that over before nodding. She was right, he supposed. When they’d dated, he’d tried so fucking hard to make her the center of his world. And he’d nearly succeeded. He’d been pretty convinced that he was really in love with her, that she was the only way for him to get over that annoying pull he’d felt to Eddie Kaspbrak since he was 13. That pull that he thought there was no way Eddie felt as well.

And when they’d ended, he had hurt, it had sucked but he had survived it. He’d gotten over it, moved on from it only to find that Eddie was still right there, in his chest and in his brain, infecting his thoughts and feelings, impossible to get over, never to be moved on from.

“We’re were good together,” Sandy spoke up and Richie turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows. She sighed and shook her head, pointing at him, “At least we never fought.”

“Yeah,” Richie shrugged, “It was fucking boring as hell.”

She rolled her eyes before she smiled at him weakly and kindly, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Feeling a sudden, engulfing need to hear his boyfriend’s voice, Richie nodded, “Thanks. I should go. Good luck, San.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Riiiiing! Riiiiiing! Riiiiiiing!

Eddie gasped, eyes flying open as he jerked awake. Looking over at the phone on Richie’s bedside table, he saw the clock next to it read 4:27am. Groaning, he crawled over to Richie’s side and slowly raised the receiver to his ear, blearily slurring, “Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” A soft voice answered and his heart skipped a beat as he suddenly snapped awake.

“Richie? Why are you calling me at 4 in the morning?” He asked, annoyed despite the thrill in the pit of his stomach. He waited for Richie to say his usual dumb shit like phone sex or… Nope, late night calls were usually just about phone sex.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot the time difference, I just…Wanted to hear your voice. Talk to you.” He sounded weird and Eddie sat up against the headboard, trying to wake himself up more.

Eddie worried at his lip, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Richie sighed, “I just really fucking wish I was home. Los Angeles is probably really fucking awesome but I’m getting to the point were I can’t even see the appeal, I just want to be with you. I always want to be with you.”

Shaking his head, Eddie half laughed, “Are you high?”

There was a beat of silence, “A touch, yes, but I still mean it. We’re right for each other. You’re fucking it for me, Eds. There’s never gonna be anyone else. Ever.”

“Richie, go to bed,” Eddie sighed, lightly smiling to himself.

“You’re thinkin’ the same way, right? That we’re it for each other? That this is it?” Richie asked, sounding very unlike himself. He needed this though, Eddie could tell, this reassurance and confirmation.

Eddie nodded, gripping the phone very tightly, “Of course, Trashmouth. This, you and me, we’re it.”

He listened as Richie took a deep breath, echoing, “We’re it.”

“Now, go to sleep, Rich.”

“Will do. I love the shit out of you.”

“Me too, Charmer. Take care of yourself and call me at a reasonable time tomorrow… later today, I guess.”

“As you wish, Eddie, my love.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“7 days,” Richie answered his phone.

He heard Eddie sighed, “I almost wish I hadn’t actually been the one calling, just to hear you sounding like a fucking idiot to someone who has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Eds, you’re like the third person to call that I’ve answered that way,” Richie said, “It’s been an awkward day.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head, “What’s going on there?”

“Same old, same old,” Richie shrugged, twirling a pen between his fingers, “I’m working on my mock-up for my last show on Friday.”

“I wish I could hear it, so do the others,” Eddie commented, twirling his fingers around the cord of the phone.

Richie laughed, “I’m glad you can’t, you’d be fucking pissed about some of the shit I’ve said about you on air.”

“Richie!”

“Kidding!”

There was a little, comfortable silence as Richie grinned, nearly seeing Eddie standing in their kitchen, rolling his eyes. After a second of just listening to his boyfriend’s soft breathing, Richie spoke up again, “They told me that if I moved back after graduation, I’d have a job.”

“Oh,” Eddie took a deep breath, “That’s— That’s—“

“I told them I got other plans but thanks,” Richie said, hearing Eddie’s choked voice.

Eddie groaned, “Richie, maybe you shouldn’t have—“

“Eds, LA isn’t where you want to be so it ain’t where I belong. I’ll go where ever you fucking want to go after graduation, New York, even Derry, if you want. I know you miss her, Eddie, even if you won’t admit it.”

Eddie felt his eyes burn and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to, he hated himself for it sometimes, but Richie was right… He missed his mother. They hadn’t spoken in two, going on three years. Since he’d gone home for Christmas break Freshman year and told her he was gay. That he was dating Richie Tozier.

She’d kicked him out. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have told her on Christmas Eve. He’d driven the long drive back to New York, crying most of the time and ended up cuddling with Richie on the couch in the apartment Ben, Bev and Mike still shared since the dorms were closed for the holidays. He shouldn’t miss someone who did that to him… But he couldn’t help it. She was still his mother.

His nonresponse was all the answer Richie needed, though.

Richie nodded to himself, “Yeah, I thought so. My point is, I’ll be there, where ever you need me. No more bullshit like this two month apart shit-fest. My dick can’t take it, it’ll fall off or something.”

Eddie groaned, cover his face with his hand, “Dammit, Richard! Just when I think you’re being sweet, you make it about your dick again.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Richie stepped out of the passenger boarding bridge, looking around for a familiar face in the crowd as he walked forward.

“Richie!”

“Rich!”

“Richie!”

“Trashmouth!”

A chorus of voices called out for him from a few yards away and he turned to see all the Losers being lead by Eddie. He started towards his boyfriend, walking fast before they both broke into a run at the same time. Slamming together, Richie gripped Eddie so close it might have bruised but Eddie didn’t care, throwing his arms around Richie’s neck and holding him just as tight. Their lips crashed together almost painfully, but after two months without so much as a brush of lips, they didn’t dare let up.

After several moments, they were forced to come up for air, both loosening their grips but neither dropping their arms. Eddie ran his hands over Richie’s neck, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck, trailing down his shoulder and chest, eyeing him with dark eyes.

Glancing behind him to see the Losers standing back with exasperated looks, he got up of tip toe, pulling Richie close and whispering in his ear, “Just wait till I get you alone.”

Richie threw back his head with a groan of frustration before Eddie slipped out of his arms to allow the others their hugs. Beverly bounded up and Richie met her, lifting her right off her feet and spinning her around before setting her back on the ground.

“I missed you, Red.”

“Yeah, you too, Asshat.”

Mike hugged him next, squeezing his arm, “Good to have you back, Rich.”

Stanley hugged him and was quickly followed up by Bill, both giving him full grins.

Last, Ben clapped him on the back, “Fancy LA DJ now, huh?”

“Eh,” Richie shrugged, eyes flickering over to meet Eddie’s, “LA ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Eddie’s face split into a smile and he bit his lip, not daring to drop Richie’s gaze.

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (Part 3/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Teen and up (may change). Strong language.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. Here’s a dinner gathering including Stan that we were robbed of.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

“Time to place bets,” said Richie as the Losers - including Ben who they’d met with on the way back from shopping - stepped foot over the threshold of the restaurant. “How long ‘til we get kicked out of this place?”

“Ten minutes,” said Stanley.

“Harsh.”

“Five if you sit next to Eddie.”

Richie placed a hand over his heart in feigned offence. “You wound me.”

“He’s guh-got a point,” said Bill and Richie thumped his arm.

The waitress who met them at the door led the group to their reserved table in a private corner where they’d be least likely to disrupt other guests. It was so familiar, the Losers Club all taking their seats around a large round table to eat and laugh and catch up on each other’s lives after so long apart. But it was so different, too. They still had their memories, there was no weight of a malevolent entity resting in the air above them, and there were no seats left empty.

Stanley sat between Bill and Beverly, glasses perched on his nose as he scanned the menu. “So everything's on you, right Ben?” he said, looking up at his friend with a playful and slightly mischievous smile.

“You wish,” said Ben, flicking a crumb of complimentary bread at him. “I know for a fact every one of you is well off.”

“I vote Bill pays,” said Richie. “He’s just got that new hit book out. Bestseller. With an actually decent ending.”

“Fuck off,” said Bill, the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Didn’t you just get a contract for a rrr-r-radio show? If anyone’s paying, it's you, jackass.”

“That was supposed to be a big surprise!” Richie protested. “Now the big reveal I planned is ruined!”

“You’ll just have to think of something else,” said Mike. “Congrats anyway, man.”

“Let’s save the toasts ‘til we have drinks,” said Beverly, flagging down a waitress. 

“Do you have a gluten-free menu?” Eddie asked once the waitress had arrived.

“No fucking way are you hypoglycaemic too,” Richie snorted.

“No, but there have been studies to suggest gluten increases your risk of intestinal cancer-”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you a doctor?”

“Three minutes,” said Stanley which shut them both up for the time being.

“Alright, I’ll need you to give the chef a list of my allergies,” Eddie said, returning to speaking with the waitress, the poor girl looking a little terrified under his intense expression. “It’s very important. I could realistically die.”

Richie listened to him ramble off a list of food items about a mile long and marvelled at how he had anything left to eat. He spoke so fast, so passionate about everything, his hands flying all over the place as he spoke, and Richie felt kind of bad for the waitress who was frantically trying to scribble everything down in her notebook, but Ben would no doubt give the girl an enormous tip to make up for everything, so he didn’t dwell on it much, just watched Eddie’s face as it cycled through about a million expressions.

“Richie?”

Richie blinked and looked up to see that another waitress had arrived to ease off some of the workload from the first, and the rest of the Losers were looking at him expectantly.

“Drinks?” Beverly prompted when Richie just stared at them all blankly.

“Shots!” said Richie instantly, clapping his hands together. If he was already getting distracted by Eddie, he sure as hell needed alcohol to get through the rest of dinner. 

“No way. You are at least staying semi-sober tonight,” said Beverly. “He’ll have a beer.”

Richie pouted at her but didn’t protest, and the waitresses finally went away. Drinks arrived, then food - a huge sharing platter of sushi - and the Losers slipped easily into comfortable conversation, laughing and joking and reminding each other of embarrassing moments from childhood, then catching up on their lives.

“So, Stan, you and the missus went on a trip with Mike, right?”

“Yeah, it was great until he tried to push me into the grand canyon.”

“That was an accident!”

“It so was not!”

Another round of beers came and went, empty bottles piling up in the centre of the table.

“So the divorce finally went through, Eds?”

“Yep.”

“Did your mom make it difficult?”

“Her name is Myra, and no, it was fine.”

“That easy?”

“We had a prenup. I’m a fucking risk analyst, you think I wouldn’t be prepared?”

The sushi plates emptied and the second-course was served. Richie finally persuaded Beverly to let him order shots and downed three in one go.

“So you two, like, got a dog? What’s its name?”

“She’s called Ember-”

“Is that after that fucking poem?!”

“That’s adorable.”

“I just threw up in my mouth you two are disgusting.”

“Shut up, Trashmouth.”

Once Richie was drunk enough that he lost any trace of verbal filter he may have possessed, the Losers inevitably turned the conversation on him.

“So about this radio show,” said Ben.

Richie was leaning his chair back on two legs precariously, eyes closed and smiling vaguely at the warm, full feeling in his chest, though whether it was being around his friends or just the surplus amounts of alcohol he wasn’t sure. “What about it?” he said, slurring the words a little.

“Come on, man, I know you’re dying to brag about it,” said Mike. “Why the big change?”

Richie tipped his chair back to all four legs and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you guys. My manager booted me after I bombed my show and fucked off to my childhood home to do shit I couldn’t tell him about, so I ended up with a new guy who thinks I’d be a great radio personality.”

“Are you actually gonna do your own jokes?” said Eddie.

“You know what, Eddie-spaghetti? I am.” He waved his hands in the air vaguely. “Whole fresh start, ya know?”

“That’s great, Rich!” said Bill, leaning across the table to give Richie a friendly bump on the shoulder.

“Wait, wait,” said Stanley, “how come you weren’t writing your own jokes before?”

“Hey, it wasn’t like I didn’t try!” said Richie suddenly feeling a little sick and wishing he had listened to Beverly telling him not to drink so much. “My old manager just didn’t go for it.”

“How come?” said Ben.

Richie waved his hand and grunted. “I dunno, jj-just uh -” Shit he was really drunk. “It was a lot of, like, personal shit, ya know? Dude said no one would relate and it would flop I guess.”

“What kind of personal shit?” said Eddie who suddenly seemed a lot more attentive.

Richie swallowed. “Just- just shit.” He waved a hand again and suddenly became very aware that all the Losers were looking at him. “I- fuck.” He rubbed a hand down his face, dislodging his glasses, then grabbed a glass of water and splashed a little on his face. He was way too drunk to start talking about personal stuff, but here he was. “Guys, I gotta tell you something.”

“What’s up, man?” said Bill, concern clear on his brow. Damn that bastard for being such thoughtful friend.

“I, uh, shit.” Richie pressed his palms to his eyes to avoid looking at his friends, his glasses pushed up over his knuckles. “I’m, uh, I’m… How do I put this eloquently? Super fucking gay.”

The room was silent with just the lull of other customers in the background, and Richie lowered his hands just enough to peek through his fingers at his friends, a part of him expecting awkward silence, disgust, loathing… But they were all grinning.

“That’s great, man,” said Bill.

“Proud of you, Rich,” said Stan.

“Thanks for telling us, honey,” said Bev, squeezing his knee under the table.

Richie blinked at them. “You, uh, don’t seem surprised…” His friends glanced sheepishly at each other. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me you already knew!”

“Of course we didn’t know!” said Stanley. “You never told us, how could we know?”

“We suspected,” said Mike slowly. “A little…”

“You overcompensate a lot, man,” said Ben apologetically. 

“Way too many ‘your mom’ jokes,” agreed Eddie.

“Well, that’s just fucking great!” said Richie, throwing up his hands. “This shit’s been eating away at me for fucking years, I had that dumb fucking clown mocking me for it, and you’re telling me I was a fucking coward for nothing!”

“You're not a cuh-c-coward, Rich, you’re the b-bravest of us all,” said Bill, his expression one of utmost honestly. 

“No one can blame you after growing up in that crap-town,” said Stanley. “Be proud, Rich. You’re the first of us to openly say anything.”

“The first-” Richie repeated, then stopped, looking around at his friends with wide eyes as they all nervously fiddled with drinks and avoided eye contact. “Are you fucking telling me I don’t even get to be the token gay in the Losers Club?!”

“Oh, honey, this has always been more of a ‘token straight’ club,” said Beverly, nudging her thumb not-so-subtly at Ben.

“I was born this way, I can’t help it,” Ben shrugged.

“Seriously?” said Richie, looking at each of his friends in turn before his eyes finally landed on Eddie. “Et tu, Eduardo?” he said, part of him dreading the answer, whichever it may be.

Eddie glanced up at him, pulling that awkward white boy, no-lipped smile. “Why do you think I got a divorce?”

“Coz you married your fucking mom!” said Richie because this seemed obvious. 

“Other reasons, too,” said Eddie, acting way too interested in his glass of water. “We never, uh-” He coughed. “Never managed to… consummate anything.”

Richie gaped open-mouthed at him, then burst out laughing. “Holy fucking shit, Eds!” he exclaimed, tears in his eyes as the other Losers tried to hide their own snickers behind their hands. “Are you still a fucking virgin?”

“No, I’m not a fucking virgin you fucking asshole,” said Eddie, instantly back to his usual defensive self.

“Are you sure about that?”

“If anyone’s a fucking virgin here, it’s you, dickwad!”

“Just coz I managed to fuck your mom and you didn’t.”

“We just established you’re fucking gay and you’re still at it with the ‘your mom’ jokes?!”

“Guys, GUYS!” Beverly interrupted, having to shout just to be heard over their bickering. She held her glass aloft. “I propose another toast before we get kicked out again.”

“To you and Ben,” said Bill, raising his glass too.

“To leaving that shit-hole town behind us,” said Mike.

“To Rich,” said Eddie, glancing at Richie and smiling slightly in a rare moment of softness.

“To not being straight,” said Stan.

“Do I join this one?” Ben whispered to Beverly.

“Sweetheart, you’re marrying me, you have to join whether you like it or not,” Beverly replied.

“To the Losers Club!” yelled Richie, and they all brought their glasses to the centre of the table, the chimes ringing out across the restaurant as they clashed lightly together. 

They all downed their drinks and fell back into their seats as one, and Richie leaned back and looked around the table at each of his friends in turn. To Beverly, Ben, Stan, Bill, Mike, and to Eddie. His family, who loved him unconditionally, who accepted him as he was and always would. He smiled softly to himself.

To the Losers.

*

Previous Next

[angelicults]

(   ross lynch. cismale. he/him.   )   is that richie tozier from stephen king’s IT in storybrooke? on screen + in the book, they’re very enthusiastic + humorous but here they seem more obnoxious + reactive. the twenty three year old radio host & aspiring comedian can usually be found around mel’s diner with their well loved but beaten up 1989 gameboy. they can remember much about their life back home. scraped knees through ripped jeans, scuffed red vans with faded sharpie’d words, unfinished thoughts in messy cursive on crumpled papers, the hallway light through the cracks of the bedroom door at night. 

hey i’m howl & this is my child. can’t wait to rp with everyone & meet all ur babies !!! ps tell me who else to bring in

𝙖 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚

i play richie with a mixture of themes from the novel , the miniseries , the 2017 remake and chapter two ... totally hectic, right ? i’m dramatic . i’ve taken quirks , bits and pieces from each to form his muse as well as some that’ve developed along the way since i’ve been writing him for some time . * triggering content to look out for in this post/plotting with rich are alcohol & drug mention, night terrors and anxiety . * there won’t be any major spoilers for IT chapter two here !

𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚, 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨

NAME: richard tozier NICKNAMES: richie, rich, trashmouth DATE OF BIRTH: march 7th ZODIAC: pisces HOMETOWN: derry, maine CURRENT LOCATION: storybrooke, maine GENDER: cis male ( he / him pronouns ) ORIENTATION: bisexual OCCUPATION: radio host by night aspiring comedian almost never

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙪𝙧 ↝ the storytellers, able to spin amusing tales from everyday life.

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚 ↝ someone that's wild and free, and that can say what he/she wants to say without a care in the world.

dig a little deeper , richie goes on and on without really stopping until you cut him off . sometimes he says things he doesn’t mean , sometimes he just doesn’t hear himself talking . he’s the kind of person that enjoys distracting other people and making himself the center of attention , he’ll always be the one you can go to if something’s wrong and you don’t wanna talk about it but wanna hear someone talk anyway . also highkey the type of person that won’t order food on their own but will order for their friends and he’ll do it in a british accent because he’ll think it’s hilarious that the waitress buys it . ( narrator vc: she doesn’t buy it )

after the incidents of the 2017 film , richie didn’t really think he’d been effected much by what happened . he seemed to fade back into normal everyday life fairly well , until a couple of months passed by and he began to have night terrors . his parents were never easy-off , in fact the family often barely swept by even though both his mom and dad worked a ton , but they scraped the money together to put him into therapy eventually . while he couldn’t diverge the actual root of his problems , this helped him begin to cope a lot . he still experiences episodes nearly every week , but they’ve gotten a lot better . richie has a strong fear of the dark , feels anxious when he has no visible escape route , and sleeps with a bat under his bed .

alcohol/drug trigger. when he grew older and left derry , he fell into a deep party phase . it started with drinking more and more , going to clubs where he’d finally be accepted and gain a new group of friends . everything quickly spiraled out of control , though . he claims that he’s experimented with everything under the sun , and he’s not exactly wrong about it . for a while , he was hooked on anything that’d be able to keep him up for long amounts of time and black him out when he finally passed out . this is how he began gaining the real courage to stand up and tell jokes , but he lost his ability to string together an act fluently . present day , he’s kicked everything besides drinking socially .

in storybrooke he’ll be kind of pissed off/nervous . he doesn’t understand what’s going on and just wants to get back home , really . probably spent most of the time they’ve been here trying to find a way out but overly panicked when he realized there wasn’t one , and now he’s pretending that he’s fine going along with it but it’s most likely eating him up more and more each day . tune in to find out when he snaps

𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙣

richie’s an extremely tactile person , he’s over exaggerative with hand gestures and often is very clingy to people he’s close with

he talks a lot and doesn’t really think about it so if he says something that pisses your muse off he probably didn’t mean it

i do play him with adhd and mild anxiety

we stan maggie tozier here , he grew up with two loving parents and that’s that !

it’s difficult for him to express emotions so he usually feels bad for being a jerk but would rather let someone believe that he’s actually a jerk than apologize

he’s very protective of his loved ones and the people close to him , basically if you mess with them you mess with him which isn’t saying much because he’d run from a fight unless otherwise forced to

he swears a lot i’m so sorry

it’s hard for him to get close to people but when he does he’s there like cling wrap and they’ll probably get super annoyed by it but that’s alright

very carefree/goes with the flow . he might make a dumb comment about things but they quickly blow over and he doesn’t care anymore

likes to be the center of attention , hates crowds

he can’t see anything ever

all you really need to know about him is that he talks 100mph and doesn’t really shut up . he speaks before he thinks and i’m fine with your character wanting to 1 2 knock him out

𝙞'𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞'𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨

[reddie-fangirl24]

The Abyss Part 2 (A Reddie/Abyss Crossover)

NOTE: I know that you have all been waiting for an update on this story. I hope you enjoy!

The team of scientists scrambled in the labs to find a solution, any solution, to free the trapped explorers. The Losers paced around, worried about their friend’s safety. They had been listening to radio transmissions of the dive. The last thing they heard was a panicked Eddie alerting Richie about rocks and then that was it. They lost all communication via radio. There was a crew just getting ready to scuba dive into the depths of the ocean when Beverly noticed something on the screen.

“Guys, come look at this!” She urged the Losers.

On the surveillance camera, a figure was swimming through the water, out from the submarine. They were struggling to hold something up.

Bill’s heart throbbed. “Is that…”

“Deepcore, Deepcore, do you read?” Eddie’s panicked voice sounded over the intercom.

Stealing the radio from one of the scientists, Mike answered his friend’s calls. “We read you, Eddie! We’re here!”

Dr. Brigham, the head of the marine biologists, snatched the radio from Mike, eying him. “What’s going on, Eddie? What’s happening?”

“Go to the infirmity, get the cart, oxygen, the defib kit, uh, oh yes, adrenaline… and-and heating blankets! Lots of heating blankets! Please, do you have all that?”

“Affirmative, Eddie!” Dr. Brigham answered. “We’ll have everything ready!”

“Meet me in the moon pool!” Eddie ordered, breathless. He was trying to remain as calm as he could. His heart was pounding in his chest. Focus, focus on your breathing. It was just five more minutes! Oh please, Richie let this work! Eddie couldn’t bear to glance at Richie’s limp body which was easier than he thought to drag through the abyss. Eddie could only hope that they’d make it in time.

Everyone feverishly scrambled around, even tripping over one another once they arrived at the moon pool. Richie was right. Although very bright these scientists were quite aloof to the most simple tasks.

Finally, Eddie’s blurred shape was made out through the water. Now they noticed Richie’s lifeless body. 

Bill and Mike dove into the pool, ignoring the frigid temperature once Eddie surfaced, struggling to hold his boyfriend by himself. Together the Losers helped carry Richie to the hard surface, laying him on the floor. Ignoring any help offered to him, Eddie scrambled to remove his mask and pushed through the crowd, dropping to his knees. 

His boyfriend’s glassy eyes stared up at him in an image so nightmarish that Eddie felt his heart stop.

“Give me the defib!” Eddie growled, snatching them from Dr. Brigham. 

“You don’t have…”

“Bud, just let him do it!” His wife argued warming up the machine. Then she noticed Eddie preparing to snap the defibs against Richie’s chest. “You know the defibs can only work against flesh. His shirt…”

Taring Richie’s shirt in shreds, Eddie went to work. The thought that Eddie just ruined one of Richie’s favorite shirts crossed his mind, but that wasn't important. He’d make it up to him. Hopefully. 

Preparing the machine, Eddie held the defibs over Richie’s chest, waiting.

“Clear!”

Richie’s body jerked from the circulation of the defibs. Nothing.

“Come on, Richie! Fight!” Eddie cried.

“He’s still not breathing.” One of the scientists remarked with little empathy. Eddie eyed him. The man had a problem with everything. Including his relationship with Richie. 

“Again!” Eddie ordered. 

The machine beeped and Eddie pressed the cold iron against Richie’s flesh a second time. Again, Richie’s body jerked but there was still nothing. His eyes remained like the eyes of a doll. No life. An oxygen mask was placed over Richie’s mouth. Multiple fingers pressed around his neck searching for a pulse.

“Come on, get it ready again!” Eddie screamed, his voice croaking.

“Eddie, calm…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! He’s my boyfriend for crying out loud! Start the machine up!”

Eddie’s lack of manners made Beverly shiver, grasping Ben. The Losers remained a close distance to the scene. Little tears fell from Bill’s eyes. Please, no, they couldn’t lose another.

Richie’s body jerked one more time. Nothing.

“It’s not working, the line is flat…” Dr. Brigham’s wife reluctantly announced.

Throwing the defibs to the ground, Eddie immediately got to work pumping his fists against Richie’s chest, performing CPR.

“1-2-3-4-5 BREATHE!” Eddie hoarsely commanded to his fellow scientists. Air was breathed into Richie’s mouth through the oxygen mask. 

Eddie kept vigorously pumping, begging for his boyfriend to wake up. Eddie was unaware that the other scientists were glancing at each other in worry and utter sadness. Two hands fell on Eddie’s shoulders while Dr. Brigham reached over to grab Eddie’s arm.

“Eddie…”

“1-2-3-4-5 BREATHE!”

“Eddie!”

“BREATHE!” Edd commanded, flying spit from his mouth.

“Eddie,” came Beverly’s voice, holding his shoulders tightly. “Honey, he’s dead.”

Sniffling, Eddie stared into his love’s lifeless eyes. His face was scarcely pale. And his lips were blue from hypothermia. His image resembled… Jack Dawson from Titanic. And now Eddie was Rose. Alive. Free to live on. Without his love. 

“It’s all over,” Dr. Brigham announced removing the oxygen mask. “I’m sor-”

“NOOOOO!” Eddie howled, practically whacking everyone’s comforting hands away. “NO! NO! NO!” Eddie screamed roughly pounding on Richie’s chest again. “Richie, you can do it! This was your plan! Now breathe! You have never backed down from any situation in your life!”

Leaning down, Eddie breathed into Richie’s mouth. Then he went back to the chest compressions as he remembered their first kiss, holding hands while walking through the park, and Richie comforting him, assuring that no matter what, he would always be there for him during the nights he’d wake him from nightmares.

“Again!” Eddie commanded picking up the defibs.

The machine took some time to warm up until it was given the clear. Richie’s body jerked. 

“FIGHT!!” Eddie screeched in a hoarse voice, making everyone jump, pressing against the man’s chest. “You’ve encouraged me to keep fighting! Now it’s your turn! Fight! Fight, you asshole, fight!”

Right then, Richie’s body moved, and his throat jerked. Finally, his eyes blinked.

Coughing up the water that flooded his lungs, Richie came back to life, shivering from the cold. The oxygen tank was thrown over his face. Everyone laughed and cried, especially Eddie. The poor thing looked confused as ever, glancing around at each person surrounding him. Richie was looking for Eddie.

There was little time before Richie would close his eyes again, but Eddie grabbed hold of his hand before he passed out. “You did it, Trashmouth!”

Lifting him onto a gurney, The Losers had to hold Eddie back, not allowed to follow Richie to the infirmary. He was hysterical, sobbing, unable to catch his breath. Beverly hugged him, along with Ben. They were all crying and shaking from the scare.

Dr. Brigham put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Just let him rest for the night. He will be okay.”

-

It was nightfall when Richie stirred hearing a noise. Blankets bundled him to the bone. A cup of warm cocoa sat on the table, steaming. And there was Eddie, smiling in relief at the entranceway of the infirmary.

“Hello, trashmouth,” Eddie greeted tears in the corners of his eyes. “They instructed me to leave you alone for the night, but I couldn’t wait.”

Richie smiled, tiredly. “Get over here, you!”

Immediately Eddie climbed into the bed, snuggling closely next to his love. The bed wasn’t large enough to accommodate the two of them. It didn’t matter much to Eddie and Richie. Being together meant more to them then having lavish comfort. 

“How’d you know I needed a warm cuddle?” Richie whispered, smelling Eddie’s glorious scent. 

Eddie leaned into Richie’s shoulder. “I always know.”

They were quiet, staring at the dark ceiling. 

“So, do I get an A+?”

Eddie chuckled, kissing his cheek. “A-.”

“What? It worked, didn’t it?” Richie complained though he was still smiling.

Noting that Richie was hardly able to keep his eyes open Eddie moved a strand of his hair to the side and cupped his loves smooth face with a warm hand. “How do you feel?”

“Been better. Can you stay and snuggle?” Richie asked him, unable to keep his tired eyes open any longer.

Eddie hugged him tighter. “Anything you want.”

“A message with your warm hands?”

“Sure.”

“A hot shower together?”

Eddie kissed his lips. “Ask me when we get home.”

“No fair! How soon?” Richie complained like a child.

Eddie smiled at him. “Tomorrow.”

“I like that.”

Eddie kissed his nose and lied his head in the crook of Richie’s neck. “Sleep.”

And the lovers drifted off to the sleep, holding one another close.

If you would like to donate to my Ko-Fi it would be much appreciated: https://ko-fi.com/mariellesabbag

[trashmouthrecords]

If only you'd have known me before the accident For with that grand collision came a grave consequence Receptors overloaded, they burst and disconnect 'Til there was little feeling please work with what is left

Oh I need not be flattered that you've never been here before So there's no need to mention that you've no firsts anymore But if you let me be your skyline I'll let you be the wave That reduces me to rubble that looked safe from far away

@shotbled

[mitchmarnier]

ask me to stay. | chapter three | 7.4k

Eddie frowned. “What? I mean, I know that Beverly wasn’t allowed to room with you but why have you always been by yourself?”

“Because you weren’t here.” Richie replied honestly. Eddie frowned slightly, wanting to sit up and have a more serious conversation but he couldn’t deny that he liked the way Richie was hovering over him. “I wasn’t allowed to stay with Bev, and nobody else wants to share a room with the Trashmouth.”

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

chapter warnings: internalized homophobia, so much pining it puts the last chapter to shame, miscommunications (yes. plural.), and so much rain it could be biblical. 

read on AO3!

Eddie woke suddenly to the sound of tapping, feeling crabby and disorientated. It took him too long to realize where he was, curled up in the front bed of Richie’s truck in a nasty highway motel blanket. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the sky foretold the possibility of more. Richie was leaning against the truck, knocking lightly against the window with his knuckles.

Eddie opened the door and tumbled out, barely managing to keep his legs standing in an upright position. Richie took a step back rather than reaching out to help steady Eddie’s legs, and Eddie’s heart cracked slightly.

“Mike’s here.” Richie said simply, gesturing towards the car when Richie and Mike had clearly already loaded their stuff into. Eddie frowned.

“I thought Bill was coming to get us,” Eddie asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. Richie seemed to give a half a smirk, before pressing his lips together and glaring angrily down at the ground.

“Billy boy getting up early to come get us?” Richie asked lightly, giving Mike a quick salute as they approached. Mike glanced between them and raised his brow at Eddie. Eddie shrugged, moving to get into the back seat of Bill’s mom’s car.

“You can take the front, Spaghetti.” Richie cut in, starting to walk backwards. “I’m going to take the truck. Can’t just leave it here for days.”

“Wait, Richie!” Eddie cried as his friend started to walk away. “You can’t take that truck, I don’t think it’s going to get you the whole way! I don’t think it’s going to-”

“It will.” Richie said firmly, if not a little softly. He gave a small smile to Eddie, patting him on the shoulder. “I know it will. ‘Cuz you fixed it, Eddie.”

Eddie swallowed a little roughly as he watched Richie turn and walk back to the truck, He watched as he got in, and pulled out of the motel parking lot. As the truck disappeared down the dirt road back towards the highway, Eddie finally turned to look at Mike.

“Awe, little lamb.” Mike wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, who immediately leaned into him and sighed sadly. “What did you do?”

Eddie slumped against the door of the car and gave Mike what he knew was a pitiful look, going to the full extent of sticking out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes. “Richie’s mad at me for not sleeping in the bed with him.”

“He’s mad at you?” Mike asked with a disbelieving laugh. He shook his head and opened the car door for him. Eddie ducked in, crossing his arms around his chest and huffing as he stared out the window. Mike got into the driver's seat and began to pull out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what happened here, but I can promise you that Richie is not mad at you, Eddie. I don’t think the guy has ever been mad at you in his entire existence.”

“That’s not true!” Eddie cried indignantly. “Back before you became friends with us, in second grade, I stole the fruit roll up from Richie’s lunch box and he was furious.”

“And how long did he stay mad at you, lamb?” Mike asked gently as he pulled back onto the highway.

Eddie scowled at the rain clouds in the sky and exhaled hard. “Half an hour, he forgave me when I cried because he wouldn’t talk to me.”

Mike laughed, reaching out with a hand and ruffling at Eddie’s head. “Don’t worry about it, Eddie, okay? Even if Richie is mad at you- which I doubt, by the way- it’s not going to last. I’d bet you anything that by the time we get up to the house, Richie will have forgotten all about whatever was going on between you.”

Eddie bit down on his bottom lip, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His chest suddenly felt tight, and his brain went a little off the grids. He supposed if there was anybody he’d been completely safe talking to, it was Mike Hanlon. “I like him,” Eddie blurted out, barely giving it thought at all. “Not like I’m supposed to, or like he’s my best friend. I like him really like him.”

It was quiet for a long moment, long enough that panic started to fully settle in Eddie’s gut, before Mike’s hand came down and squeezed Eddie’s wrist. “I know, little lamb,” Mike said softly. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, and Eddie pressed his free hand against his cheek. Just watching Mike. Waiting for something more. “I’ve known for a while. Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody else noticed anything.”

“Does… does Richie…” Eddie rubbed his hand against his cheek now, heart in his throat and leg bouncing erratically. “Does Richie know?” He managed to squeak out.

Mike glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, smiling slightly. “I can’t answer that. Who ever knows what’s going on in Richie’s head, really. I’m sure that Richie cares about you enough that if he did know, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I’m not going to tell him.” Eddie said firmly. He noticed Mike raising his eyebrows but Eddie started shaking his head. “I don’t want any well meaning advice. Shove your advice up your ass, I’m going to stick with my plan of doing what I want.”

Mike chuckled, reaching out to turn on the radio and fiddling for a station. “Alright, alright. I just think that Richie would-”

“La la la!” Eddie shouted, slapping his hands over his ears and dramatically kicking his feet. “I said no advice!”

Mike clucked his tongue and looked ready to burst out laughing, but managed to contain it as they both watched the clouds pass by overhead as they moved towards an event in which they were trapped on a lake for the next three days.

It was raining when Mike pulled into the driveway. As Eddie moved to grab his things from the back of the car, he felt something getting tossed over the top of his head. Startling, and nearly dropping his rucksack, Eddie whipped around and saw Richie smiling down at him. The hand that wasn’t holding onto his rucksack grabbed for the fabric around him and found himself covered in one of Richie’s surprisingly nice sweaters.

“What’s this for?” Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes. He slipped the sweater on, popping the hood up and tossing his backpack onto his shoulders.

Richie grinned cheekily down at him. “You looked a little wet there, Eds.” He attempted to toss his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie quickly dodged him. He glowered up at Richie, resenting not for the first or last time that Richie had so much height on him.

“Thought you were pissed at me?” Eddie accused him, stomping down and holding his ground. He noticed the rest of the Losers joined up under the roof on the front porch while Richie and Eddie stood together in the rain.

Richie’s brow furrowed. “I was never mad at you, Eds. You were the one being all fucking weird.”

“God, you’re the worst you know that!” Eddie snapped, that anger that was also so close to surface bubbling up once more. He clenched his fists at his sides. “You don’t understand anything do you?”

“Apparently not!” Richie tossed his arms out in an extravagant gesture, but he sounded more tired than angry.  “I don’t understand anything about anything, and I don’t know what I want or what I feel, and I’m just some big dumb lap dog you guys all put up with.”

Eddie blinked hard, physically reeling his head back at Richie’s aggressive response. “Rich, that’s not what I said.”

Richie held his hand up and gave a disgusted look. “Whatever, Eddie.” He pushed back Eddie, knocking their shoulders together, and Eddie’s stomach sunk the way it always did whenever Richie used his real time when addressing him. Eddie turned slowly to watch Richie stomp up the steps to the lake house and move inside without saying a word to anybody else. Eddie sighed hard, with his whole body, and dragged his feet the whole way to his friends.

Mike gave him a sympathetic, closed mouthed smile as Eddie approached that he returned. “D-D-Don’t worry about Ruh-Rich,” Bill said, patting Eddie softly on the shoulder and nodding at him. “He’s b-b-been in a b-b-bitch since he g-g-got here. Guess he and B-B-Bev are in s-s-ome loves q-q-q-quarrel.”

“Shut up, Denbrough,” Beverly said with a forced smile and an eye roll. “We didn’t even do anything. I just told him we needed to talk later when we had the chance. No need to make it into this big huge thing.”

Eddie frowned, kicking at the wooden porch and refused to meet Mike’s eye line as they stepped into the house. Everybody moved with ease as them came inside, knowing exactly what to do with their shoes and rain jackets, and Eddie felt that discontent that happened for him and the Losers sometimes. The reminder that his friends had spent multiple summers here before, but Eddie had never been allowed to go along. That his friends had many memories that didn’t involve him, because his mother had kept him from them.

“You okay, Eddie?” Beverly asked him, placing a hand on his elbow and smiling softly at him. Eddie felt that usual pang of guilt he got when he Beverly was nice to him- which yeah, happened often- and he tried to shake it free from his mind.

He smiled back at her. “Yeah, I’ve just never been here before. I’m not sure where-”

“Oh!” Beverly blinked in surprise. “Right! Sorry, Billy is the worst host. This is the first year his parents and Georgie aren’t here with us. I think you and Richie have the last room at the end of the hall upstairs. It’s house rules that Rich and I don’t get to share.”

Or is it because you’re broken up? Eddie thought a little snidely. He knew it wasn’t fair, and that Beverly wouldn’t even know that Eddie knew the truth about her and Richie’s relationship.

Ben “Bet Beverly is regretting not taking the ride with Richie yesterday,” Ben called out, looking over at them with a pursed smile. Forced and utterly fake, the look of somebody trying too hard. Eddie raised his brow and Beverly gave him a wrinkled nose smile. “You know, an excuse to be alone in the hotel room, some Bev and Richie time…”

“When have Richie and Bev ever needed an excuse to have sex?” Stan asked dryly, not bothering to look up from the box of records that Bill had on the coffee table. Eddie’s heart flip-flop in his chest, and Beverly glanced away awkwardly. She began ringing her hands then turned away, moving past their friends and further into the house.

“Okay, what is going with them?” Stan asked with an air of annoyance. His eyes fell to Eddie and narrowed. “Do you know something, Kaspbrak?”

Eddie felt his face flush. “Why I know anything? You- You’re his best friend, Stanley. Maybe you know something, and you’re just trying to keep the attention off of me.”

Stan gave him his mastered look of raising one eyebrow.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Got ya.”

The rest of the Losers stared at him for awhile and Eddie felt his face turned bright red. He rubbed his face absentmindedly and shrugged up one shoulder awkwardly. “So… where is my room again?” He was quickly giving more detailed directions by Bill and moved through the long hallway. As he moved to let himself into the room, the door came open and Richie nearly ran into him.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open and he shuffled back slightly on an instinct. The expressionless look on Richie’s face darkened as he attempted to push past him. “Don’t worry, Eds. There’s two beds.”

“Wait, wait!” Eddie cried, reaching out and grabbing onto the back of Richie’s T-shirt. “Can we talk please? Rich?”

Richie exhaled hard. “Are you going to be mean to me for no reason again?”

Eddie sighed and glanced down at his shoes. “No. I’m sorry.”

Richie turned around slowly, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his shorts. “I don’t get you, Eddie. I used to be able to read you like an open book but somebody closed that book and put on a lock on it. If you’re going to be a locked book, I need you to try and tell me what the pages say.”

“I don’t want to be a closed book,” Eddie said sadly. He took steps closer to Richie, letting their legs press together where they stood. Richie tilted his chin down to look at him, smiling through the still apparent sadness in his eyes. “I’m… working on it, okay?”

Richie shrugged one shoulder. Eddie shuffled forward and wrapped his arms gently around Richie’s middle. There was a moment of awkwardness where Eddie felt his heart start to hammer his chest, before he felt Richie’s arm wrap back around his shoulders, a hand cupping the back of Eddie’s head. His fingers scratched at Eddie’s scalp, pressing his cheek against the top of Eddie’s head.

“I was never mad at you, Eds.”

“I was never mad at you, either.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how long they stayed standing like that, arms around each other, Eddie’s face pressed against Richie’s collar bone and Richie’s head rested on his. They stood like that until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through to them. Eddie stumbled away from Richie’s hold, ending back up against the wall while Richie just looked casually towards their new guest. Eddie swallowed a little roughly at the sight of Beverly looking patiently between them, and Eddie knew he probably looked incredibly guilty in that moment.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Beverly said pleasantly. She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around Richie’s wrist. “But I was thinking maybe now would be a good time for us to talk? The rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon, so Bill is going to set up some card game and dinner so…”

Richie cleared his throat a little, scratching at the back of his head.  “Uh.. yeah, no. This is fine, we should do this.” Richie gave Eddie a little nod and a small smile. “We’re cool, right Eds?”

“Yeah,” Eddie lied with a nod. “We’re totally cool. It’s fine.” Eddie fumbled with the door to his and Richie’s room and tumbled in with his stuff, as Richie scuffed the toe of his shoe into the ugly rug on top of the hardwood floor.

“So, what’s up Bev Bev?” Richie asked, giving her a classic lopsided grin.

“I was just uh…” Beverly bit her bottom lip then smiled. “I was wondering how long this break was going to last?”

Richie blinked then frowned at his ex-girlfriend. A million different thoughts bubbled up in his head, arguments and intelligent words, but all he could manage was to shake his head at her. “Beverly, I didn't- this isn’t a break. I broke up with you. It’s over.”

“But,” Beverly gaped at him, mouth flopped open and shut like a fish out of water. “You kept saying that you loved me! The whole time and-”

“I do love you,” Richie said softly, furrowing his brow and tilting his head. “Beverly, you’re one of my favourite people in this world and I care so much about you. I’m just not in love with you.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” Beverly said tearfully, crossing her arms around her chest. “One second everything was fine, and the next you were breaking up with me and saying you weren’t in love with me anymore? This just came out of nowhere, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think!”

“Things haven’t been fine, Bev.” Richie said sharply, clenching his jaw. “I’ve been trying to be fine, pretend that everything was normal but I’m not and it isn’t. I’m sorry that you’re hurt and confused, Bev, I never wanted that and I wish I’ve could have found a way that didn’t leave you hurt but I’m not… I’m not going to spend my entire life pretending to be in love with you.”

“How long have you been pretending to still be in love with me?” Beverly asked, staring up at Richie with a shell shocked look on her face.

Richie clenched his jaw and mentally cursed himself. He stepped away from Beverly as he began to pace, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “This is getting all fucked up. Why did we have to have this talk? Everything was fine after the first time!”

“That’s because you weren’t clear the first time!” Beverly shouted, tossing her hands up in the air. “I didn’t even know that you were breaking up with me!”

“I was fucking clear!” Richie shouted back, starting to turn red in the face. “You just weren’t fucknig listening to me, and just chose to hear whatever the fuck you wanted!”

The two of them stood and glared at each other until the door behind them clicked open, and Eddie shuffled out awkwardly. He wanted to move to Richie’s side, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. Richie was just his friend, same as Beverly, and he couldn’t so obviously pick sides in a fight that shouldn’t involve him. He wanted nothing more than to rest a hand on Richie’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile, try to make his best friend feel better, but he acknowledged there was nothing he could do for Richie right now. He offered them both a small smile, and a slight nod. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Beverly popped her lips, looking away from Eddie with embarrassment written all over her face. “Richie and I were just…” She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Breaking up, apparently. I’ll see you all downstairs later.”

Then Beverly was gone, turning on her heel and disappearing down the hall faster than Eddie had ever seen her move. She was practically running, and Eddie had to look away. There was a mixture of emotions in his gut right now, bouncing back and forth between excited that Richie and Beverly were publicly broken up and feeling completely guilty about being excited. Tossing the acknowledge anger for even feeling excited at all, as though just because Beverly and Richie breaking up meant anything for Eddie except that things were now going to be awkward in his friend group.

Richie was looking at him and Eddie supposed he was looking for something. Some advice, or some comfort. Eddie had nothing to give him. He looked down the hall to double check what he already knew about Beverly being gone, then stepped forward and curled a finger through Richie’s belt loop. “I have some sour gummy worms in my backpack.”

Richie raised his eyebrows, giving Eddie an offended look. “You had those that whole truck ride and the entire time we were fixing it up, and you didn’t mention it?”

Eddie smiled cheekly up at him. “They’re mine, I didn’t want to share them. Especially not with you, because I know that you’re a gummy worm hog.”

“Then why are you telling me now?” Richie challenged, pushing closer to Eddie. With Eddie’s fingers still in Richie’s belt loops, the posture between them felt so intimate that Eddie’s actual heart was blushing. He didn’t know if that was possible, but he was sure in that moment that was what was happening to him.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie shrugged playfully with a little smirk. “You’re looking a little pathetic right now, so I thought I’d be nice. But if you don’t want any-”

“No!” Richie giggled, leaping away from Eddie’s grip and practically skipping into their shared bedroom. Eddie quickly chased after him, jumping at Richie while his best friend and they tumbled onto Eddie’s bed. They smacked at each other mindlessly for a moment, giggling, before flopping onto the bed on their best.

“Oh, this is great,” Richie sighed, dropping his arm over his eyes, grinning up at the ceiling.

Eddie tilted his head to the side, smiling bemusedly at his friend. “What’s great?”

Richie looked back at him, balancing him up his elbow and his grin turning soft. “It’s just… I’ve been coming here for three years, and this is first time I’ve had somebody to share my room with. It’s just nice.”

Eddie frowned. “What? I mean, I know that Beverly wasn’t allowed to room with you but why have you always been by yourself?”

“Because you weren’t here.” Richie replied honestly. Eddie frowned slightly, wanting to sit up and have a more serious conversation but he couldn’t deny that he liked the way Richie was hovering over him. “I wasn’t allowed to stay with Bev, and nobody else wants to share a room with the Trashmouth.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie said, knowing even himself that it sounded weak and pathetic. Richie raised his eyebrow and Eddie sighed, shifting a little bit on his back. Their knees rested together, Eddie’s body feeling on fire where they were touching.

“Don’t worry about it, Eds,” Richie said, sounding almost quiet and at peace. “I know where I stand. It’s all good, because you have gummy worms.”

Richie leaned over Eddie’s body, reaching into Eddie’s backpack and Eddie felt the familiar panic hitting his chest again. All logic in his brain and body and goddamn soul went flying out the window because all he knew was that Richie was not allowed to put his hand in Eddie’s backpack. Brain disconnected from itself, Eddie launched himself forward and grabbed the back of Richie’s head. He pulled Richie down, away from his bag, and kissed him full on the mouth.

The two of them stayed like that for a moment, completely frozen, then Eddie’s brain kicked back into working order. He pulled away from Richie, letting out what he knew sounded like a horrified gasp, and pushed Richie off of him. The second Richie’s back had hit the mattress, Eddie was shooting up and running his fingers through his air.

“I…” Eddie cleared his throat, not wanting to look at whatever look of disgust Richie would be wearing. “We should probably go downstairs. Everybody is there and we already missed the first day, so.”

“I don’t really want to see them right now,” Richie said, voice sounding disconnected and cold. Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and didn’t turn around.

“Okay, well, I’m…. I’m going to go… then.” Eddie bolted out of the room before Richie could give any response. He almost fell down the stairs, but quickly regretted leaving Richie for the rest of the Losers when he took sight of Beverly crying in Bill’s arms on the couch.

“Is Richie okay?” Stan asked, standing quickly and moving towards Eddie, who was hovering in the doorway.

Eddie nodded awkwardly, giving Stan a little bit of a half smile. “He’s okay, I guess. I don’t think he’s going to come down tonight though, he’ll be a little uncomfortable.” Eddie immediately recognized the look in Stanley’s eyes and reached out to took hold of his friend’s wrist. “I don’t think he wants to see anybody. You know Richie, when he’s ready to talk, he’ll come to you.”

That wasn’t true, and Eddie knew that he was lying through his teeth. Richie would never come to a person with his problems, ever. He’d once gotten a concussion and passed it off as a headache for two days before making a laughing joke about it once he’d recovered. It had taken Eddie weeks to stop worrying that Richie had caused permanent damage to his brain. Any sort of emotional problem was even worse, it could take days of Eddie or Stan prying at him to open up.

Stan was looking at him disbelievingly and Eddie couldn’t blame him. It was a weak lie, used mostly to protect himself and Eddie knew it. “Okay, we both know that’s not true. But…” Eddie floundered for a moment before his brain clicked into motion. “Pushing Richie before he’s ready will just push him further away from telling us.”

“You’re right,” Stanley sighed with an eyeroll. “You’re still acting very strange, but you’re right. And if you’re going to be on Richie’s side exclusively about this, don’t make it obvious to Bev. It’s the last thing she needs right now.”

“I’m not on Richie’s side exclusively.” Eddie said indignantly, crossing his arms angrily. Stan gave him that mastered look of a single eyebrow raise and Eddie flushed. “I’m not. There’s no sides, this is shit for everybody!”

“You can say that again.” Stan huffed out a sigh. “Bill’s already trash talking Richie like he’s getting paid to do it. If Bev wasn’t so upset…” Stan shook his head. “I don’t know. They’s probably going to get back together, anyway. It’s Richie and Beverly. They’ve always been together.”

No they haven’t, thought Eddie, who avidly remembered the days before Richie and Beverly were a couple. He knew that nobody ever meant always since the beginning of time when they Richie and Beverly had always been together, but it still burned at Eddie when it heard it. Like Richie and Beverly were so unstoppable force, always meant to be, never swaying.

Eddie exhaled hard. “I’m going to go outside for some air.”

Stan blinked at him. “It’s still raining.”

Eddie shrugged, already turning away. “I’m only happy when it rains.”

He could feel how Stan was staring at his back as he let himself out the front door and walked over to the wet railing. He leaned up against it, pulling the sleeves of Richie’s sweater over his hands and exhaled hard. His knee pressed against the wet wood and made his stomach bubble the way only heavy rain could. Along with cars, thunder storms had been one of the things that Eddie remembered most about his father. Sitting out on the Kaspbraks front porch, watching the rain run through the streets and the sky light up with the white forks. Even now, when Sonia would screech about how Eddie would get sick from being outside in the rain, thunderstorms and any sort of heavy rain always gave Eddie a small happy feeling in his chest.

Eddie hadn’t been standing outside for very long before he heard the front door opening behind him. He knew immediately that it wasn’t Stanley, who had never been the type to chase after anybody but Eddie wasn’t in the mood to play into the game of making things easy for people. Mike came over, leaning against the railing and raised his eyebrow. “What’s going on, little buddy?”

“Feel yucky,” Eddie mumbled, dropping his elbows down onto the wet railing and letting his eye flutter closed. He could still feel Mike’s eyes burning into the side of his head. “Stomach all… gross.”

“Are you sick?” Mike asked, reaching a hand out and pressing it against Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed and knocked Mike’s hand away, finally turning to look at the friend who was staring at him expectantly.

“I think I feel guilty for Richie and Bev breaking up,” Eddie admitted quickly, feeling the words and nerves all coming falling out of his mouth beyond the train of his brain. He watched Mike’s face soften and Eddie’s heart dropped.

“Have you done anything that cause Richie and Bev to break up?” Mike asked. Eddie shook his head. “Did you say anything to Richie, to persuade him to break up with her? Outside of the normal friendly advice?”

“No.” Eddie said brugundingly.

Mike smiled at him. “Then let yourself off the hook, Eddie. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’ve done things wrong,” Eddie said gumly, looking back out at the beginning to water-log grassy lawn. “Maybe I guess I didn’t break up Richie and Bev but I-”

Mike made a loud humming noise. “Eddie Kaspbrak. You need to cut yourself more slack. The only person who thinks you did anything wrong is you, so please. Eddie. Please. Stop. There’s nothing wrong with your feelings for Richie, they’re not bad. And it doesn’t make you responsible for Richie’s relationships. Especially if he doesn’t even know how you feel.”

Eddie pressed his lips together tightly, not quite willing to cry just then. Would he cry over this eventually, yes. But it didn’t feel right to shed tears over Richie while Beverly was so much more rightfully upset just on the other side of the walls.

“I mean it.” Mike cupped the back of his head, rubbing his thumb against Eddie’s neck. “Stop beating yourself up over things that are out of your control and just let yourself live.”

Eddie whined. “Why couldn’t I be in love with you? That would be so much better, and it would make so much more sense.”

“That’s flattering, Eddie.” Mike chuckled. “Now are we going to talk about you saying that you’re in love with Richie?”

Eddie hummed, smirking up at Mike sarcastically. “No. We absolutely are not going to talk about that.”

Mike tucked Eddie under his arm and guided him back into the house. Eddie stayed amongst his friends, very thankful that Beverly seemed to have stopped crying even though she wasn’t her usual upbeat and happy self, until he was hiding his yawns behind his hand.

“Maybe you should head up to bed, Eddie.” Beverly said, reaching out and squeezing Eddie’s knee. “I know you get all weird road jet-lag thing whenever you travel North. And you’ve been doing it for two days.”

And I slept like garbage last night in the bench of Richie’s truck instead of in a bed because I’m a big giant idiot, Eddie thought but just gave his friends a sleepy smile and stumbled up the stairs. He let himself quietly into the bedroom, tip toeing in as he was sure that Richie was asleep, but was surprised to see Richie staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, moving over to take his bags off the bed and drop them onto the floor at the bottom. Richie was quiet long enough that Eddie looked over his shoulder towards him, seeing his friend still just staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to go to bed now, I’m really tired because-”

“Road-lag,” Richie responded, voice coming out in a dry croke from lack of use. Eddie frowned slightly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket before crawling into bed.

“Okay…” Eddie said slowly, punching the pillow into a softer lay and rolled onto his side. Looking away from Richie. “Well. Goodnight, Rich.”

“G’night, Eds.” Richie said quietly, Eddie hearing him roll over. Richie turned away from Eddie, too.

Despite the tension of anxiety in his stomach, Eddie was very groggy and it was easy for his brain to start to doze. His brain moved into the fuzzy state where he almost felt as though he was floating, and not in control of his thought process at all. Just as Eddie’s half-aware brain was sure that he was about to slip into unconsciousness, something caught through to him and brought him back into reality. Grumbling slightly under his breath, Eddie rolled over and looked through the darkness of the room and narrowed his eyes in the an weak attempt to see through teh nothing.

The noise became progressively louder, and a little bit wetter, and Eddie frowned out into the room as struggled to push through the messy thoughts in his head. He was a little ashamed that it took him so long to realize what it was that had brought his brain back to life, and once he did it was though his heart had bubbled right up into his throat and was threatening to escape out of his mouth.

Richie was crying, not just crying but full body shaking sobbing. Eddie stared at him helplessly for a moment, mouth dropping open and knowing his own face was crumbling. He knew that Richie would want Eddie to roll back over and pretend he hadn’t heard anything. Eddie couldn’t just do that, knowing that Richie needed comfort when he was so upset even if he’d never ask for it. Even if Richie didn’t want anybody to know, if he didn’t want Eddie to know. Eddie bounced back and forth for a long moment with the privacy need, and the strain of their friendship right now, and the acknowledge of all the things Eddie had done today… Eddie shook his head and jumped out of bed.

Padding across the floor, Eddie hesitated for a moment at the edge of Richie’s bed. Eddie reached out and rested a hand onto Richie’s shoulder and squeezed. Richie startled, rolling onto his back and jerking away from Eddie’s touch. Richie wiped a little wildly at his wet cheeks and coughed awkwardly. “I’m okay, Eds. I’m fine.” Richie said quickly, clearing at his throat the thickness from his tears. “Just go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Shut up.” Eddie shook his head, pushing at Richie until there was enough room for Eddie to climb into the bed beside him. Richie made a confused noise as Eddie laid down beside him, casually letting an arm drop around Richie’s waist and tug him closer. Richie’s head automatically dropped down onto Eddie’s chest, but he could feel the tension between them.

“Thought we were too old to share the same bed,” Richie mumbled. His hands were still pressed against his stomach, wrapping around himself instead of fully settling into Eddie’s hold.

Eddie sighed softly. “Shut up,” he repeated, squeezing Richie’s body hip. Richie relaxed into him then, tucking his head a little bit more into Eddie’s neck and shifting his legs so that his and Eddie’s legs tangled together under the blankets. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie shook his head against Eddie’s neck, Eddie feeling the way Richie’s body shook slightly and there was a hint of wetness pressing against Eddie’s skin now. Eddie stroked up and down Richie’s back, letting another hand come up to cup the side of Richie’s head to stroke at his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

Eddie couldn’t get anywhere close to falling back asleep until Richie’s cries had quieted and his breathing had evened out. He knew that he should get out of Richie’s bed, stop allowing himself to hold Richie in a way that he knew was only going to lead his own hurt. But he weakly told himself that if he moved then Richie could wake up, and then get upset again. So, Eddie didn’t move and he didn’t Richie go and eventually he fell asleep.

When Eddie came to, it was the to the sound of crashing and blundering. Sitting up quickly, Eddie squinted in the suddenly sunlight room and looked at Richie, who was tossing his belongings around the room like he was trying to be some makeshift natural disaster. Eddie rubbed at his eyes, frowning. “What are you doing?”

Richie turned around, giving Eddie the coldest look he’d ever received from the boy. It was cold enough that it made every part of Eddie’s insides freeze up, they may as well as sprouted icicles themselves. “I’m going back to Derry.”

Eddie gaped at him. “What? Because of Beverly, Rich you don’t have to-”

“No, not because of Bev.” Richie said, his voice almost dripping venom. At Eddie. Directed to Eddie.

Tears sprung up into Eddie’s eyes as he watched Richie stuffing clothes into his bag. “Richie, what’s going on…?”

Richie turned slowly, face contorted up in a way that Eddie had never seen before. “When I got up this morning, I remembered what you said yesterday. About having gummy bears.” Richie said slowly, his voice harsh and driving an ach directly into Eddie’s chest with each word. His heart was beating so loudly in his ear that Eddie almost couldn’t hear what Richie was saying. “And I couldn’t help but feel like you teased me about them yesterday, so I went into your bag to get them.”

Fuck. Eddie knew his eyes had blown open wide, that his face had likely even lost colour. “Richie, I…”

Richie grabbed the tape from inside his belongings and shook it. His face looked completely pained and Eddie had to choke back a sad sound. “Did you listen to this? Eddie?”

“I…” Eddie swallowed roughly. “Not really, no. I… Sort of?”

Richie made a disgusted noise and tossed the mix tape back towards the ground. “Okay, so what then? Is that why you kissed me yesterday? You felt guilty or whatever? Some pity bullshit?” He swung his backpack onto his shoulder and stormed out of the room. Eddie’s heart was meeting a million beats per minute as he nearly fell out of the bed in the haste to chase after Richie’s much longer legs.

“Richie, Richie, wait, wait!” Eddie almost fell down the stairs, tripping over his socked feet as Richie was already pulling on the front door. “Richie, please.”

Ben and Stan had both come to the doorway between the living room and front entry, watching between them with confused and nervous looks. There was a deep suspicion on Stan’s face, a narrow of his eyebrows and a quirk of his lips, but Eddie jet right past them. “Richie, please, please don’t go home. You don’t have to go.”

Richie looked at Eddie for a moment, almost like he wanted to speak, but ended up simply shaking his head and slamming the door on his way out. Eddie let out a soft sob, pressing a hand over his mouth and he took two steps away from the door.

He ran directly into Ben, who pressed a hand on the small of Eddie’s back. Eddie jumped slightly, and stumbled back against the door.

“Eddie, go after him.” Ben said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s still raining out there, and you know Richie can’t focus when he’s angry. I don’t know what happened, but you’re not just going to let him disappear out there like that.”

Eddie swallowed roughly, stomach feeling tense and a little bit like he might throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up and then pass out. But he turned from Stan and Ben, and rushed out of the front door.

The second he was down off the front porch, he could feel himself getting drench through. He could see through the heavy rain that Richie was completely drenched and struggling to get the truck door open with his shaking hands. “Richie, stop.”

Richie turned around and even in the seriousness of the situation, his breath caught in his throat. Richie’s hair was plastered to his forehead, his shirt sticking to his body. Eddie rubbed his hands together and took a single step towards him. “I’m sorry I listened to the tape when you asked me not to,” Eddie said, having to speak loudly over the sound of the rain and wind. “I only listened to the one song and then I had to turn it off. I couldn’t listen to anymore than that.”

Richie just continued to stare at him, not moving, not blinking. His face was a blank canvas that Eddie wanted to paint happiness and peace all over. “I shouldn’t have listened to it. You made it clear that you didn’t want me to, and I did it anyway. I’m sorry. But don’t think for a second that what happened yesterday was because of that tape or even anything that you did, okay? It was my own thing. My own… issues. My shit.” Eddie inhaled hard, all of his breath long gone and Richie was still just staring at him. “You’re my best friend, Richie. You’re like… the most important person in the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, or if you decided that you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. I think the world would be… pretty unbearable without you. No matter how much of a bitch I can be to you sometimes.”

Eddie could dimly see Richie’s expression soften even through the rain, his friend taking a step or two towards him. Eddie continued wringing his hands, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry I kissed you yesterday, and that I made you all confused and upset about it. I know the last thing you need is that drama, and it doesn’t matter if I have a super big crush on you. Because more than that you’re my best friend, and that’s what matters. None of the rest of that stuff. Just please… tell me you’re going to drive back to Derry in this weather. It’s not safe.”

Richie blinked at him a few times, looking similar to the time Hockstetter had knocked his head against the cement and giving him a concussion. “You have a crush on me?”

Eddie was definitely going to throw up now. He stepped back just slightly, before turning away and rushed through the wet grass. He ran until he reached the dock, and then ran completely down the dock until he reached the very end. He turned slowly, cursing his white person in a horror movie train of thought of not simply running somewhere not stupid, and watch Richie reach the dock. He walked slowly towards Eddie, hands out slowly as though he was approaching an injured animal.

“Eddie…” Richie said slowly, almost having to nearly yell over the roaring rain. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Eddie gasped. “You can’t.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “You can’t just this kind of stuff to me and expect me not to kiss you. I’m going to count to ten, and then I’m going to kiss you. If you don’t want me to do that, then I guess you’re just going to have to stop me.”

Eddie’s heart hammered, looking all over except into Richie’s eyes. He watched Richie’s feet as he began to walk towards him. “10… 9… 8…” Richie took a step with every number and he was soon pressing against Eddie. Their legs pressed together, Richie’s hands come out to wrap around Eddie’s wrists. “6… 5… 4…”

Eddie pushed up onto his toes and pressed his lips against Richie’s. It was harsh at first, Eddie missed slightly but Richie tilted his head down and moved their lips together more smoothly. Richie’s hands moved from Eddie’s wrists to waist, as Eddie slid his hands up to grasp at Richie’s shoulders. He clutched at the wet fabric, tugging on Richie to bring him closer.

Eddie, though, of course, like the perfect love sick dumbass he was had forgotten exactly where he’d left himself standing until he and Richie were both tumbling backwards into the lake. The water hadn’t experienced enough summer warmth to comfortable, and the multiple days of rain had left it with a deep burning chill. Eddie gasped loudly as he resurfaced, frantically pushing the wet hair out of his face. He watched the water rippled and Richie come up, laughing.

“Holy shit, this water is absolutely fucking freezing,” Richie whined, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I think my balls are going to fall the fuck off.”

Eddie laughed, swimming forward to Richie, then stalling. Richie squinted at him. “Can you maybe see my glasses by any chance?”

Eddie looked around, feeling nervous for a second, then spotted them floating nearby. “Yeah, yes, hold on.” Eddie swam over to them, grabbing them out of the water, and floating back. He straighten up in front of Richie, reaching out to place the glasses onto Richie’s face. His tongue stuck out in concentration and once the glasses were settled on Richie’s nose, Eddie took a leap of faith and ran his fingers through Richie’s soaking wet mop of hair.

Richie’s face dropped into the softness expression that Eddie ever seen his life, tilting his head slightly to the side and giving him a gooey smile. Eddie only realized a second before Richie kissed him what was going to happen, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck as their lips together. They move together for several moments, Eddie gasping as he felt Richie’s tongue tracing along his bottom lip. They kissed for several more moments, until Richie shivered almost violently and they broke apart with soft giggles.

Richie’s nose dug into Eddie’s cheek and Eddie felt him say something against his skin, but he couldn’t hear him over the rain.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

46 + 48

46. “Hey, binge eating at Christmas is totally justified!”

48. “You made gingerbread zombies?”

* * * * *

As Eddie stepped into the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Richie, the smell of gingerbread hit him square in the face. It was coming from the kitchen, and Eddie dumped his bag and made his way through the living room to the entrance to their kitchen, spotting Richie sliding something into their oven.

It was surprising to see Richie out of bed and actually doing something other than wallowing in self-pity, which he had been doing for the past three weeks, since he lost his job. Not that it was Richie’s fault of course, as some douchebag at the station had called Eddie a few choice words, leading Richie to punching him square in the face, breaking his nose. He was terminated on the spot of ‘aggressive behaviour in the workplace’.

Eddie understood why Richie was so depressed about losing his job, as he had been a comedian radio DJ on one of the prime hour shows. People loved his work and some had even complained about his termination, regardless of whether it was aggressive or not. Yet the producers refused to hire him back, and instead placed the douchebag in charge of Richie’s shows.

Over the three weeks, Eddie had watched Richie apply for job after job but with little to no success. Since it was so close to the holiday season, no-one was really hiring, especially in Richie’s field. It hurt to see the love of his life in such a funk, as Richie was usually the one out of the two of them who was so full of life and laughter.

Richie chose that moment to turn around, closing the oven and spotting Eddie by the door. He broke into a wide smile and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulling him into a welcome home kiss. “You’re home early!”

“And you’re out of bed…” Eddie commented, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re smiling… not that I don’t want you to smile but is everything alright?”

Nodding his head, Richie took a step back and pointed to the freshly baked cookies that were sitting on the island of their kitchen. This did bring a smile to Eddie’s lips, as Richie loved Christmas and one of their Christmas activities was baking cookies and gingerbread men. He stepped closer, a batch of the cookies catching his eye. “You made gingerbread zombies?”

“I did! I also made a few other different things, and filmed me doing them live on my YouTube Channel!” Richie explained and Eddie blinked, confusion clear on his face. “I figured, since I don’t have a job, I may as well have fun at home and keep my fan base entertained.”

Eddie let out a giggle at that, pulling Richie down into another kiss, “I am so happy you’re not in a funk anymore, Rich…I was really starting to get worried,” he mumbled into his mouth. “Those assholes didn’t deserve you anyway.”

Richie pulled back and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, grabbing a cookie from the tray and stuffing it into his mouth, making Eddie grimace and push him away. He noticed then that a few of the spaces where cookies should be were empty and he sighed. “What?” Richie asked, his mouth still full of cookies.

“You’re binging…” Eddie muttered. “You’re baking, and then eating the finished products. This isn’t healthy Richie…we need to donate some of these to the homeless shelter or something so you don’t eat them all when I’m not here.”

“Hey, binge eating at Christmas is totally justified!” Richie mock gasped before he let his shoulders slump forward. “Hey I’m sorry, I really did want to just have some fun in the kitchen today as laying in my bed is going to give me bed sores. I promise I’ll go for a run or something tomorrow, get out the house for a bit.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist, resting his head on his chest, “You don’t need to go running, Richie. I don’t need to see you in my infirmary. Maybe just go a walk, for fresh air, you’re not exactly gaining weight thanks to a few baked goods.”

“I love you, so much,” Richie breathed, moving back to start cleaning up the kitchen so Eddie could prepare dinner. “I just hate that you’re the only one bringing in an income right now.”

With a sigh, Eddie took a seat on one of the island high chairs, resting his elbow on the counter. “Richie, I told you, I don’t mind that I’m the only one working right now. We worked out our finances and we have enough savings to get us by right now. I’m sure you’ll find something in the New Year and then we won’t have to worry anymore.”

Richie pursed his lips and pulled his phone out of his pocket, sitting it on the counter. “I uh, I applied for SNL this morning…on a whim.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll get an interview or an audition or anything, but I was looking through some of my skit comedy videos and I thought…why not. It’s my dream so it must be worth a shot…right? So I applied.”

Eddie blinked, a small smile on his lips as he leaned over and placed his hand over Richie’s, “So you were nervous baking and nervous eating. Now it all makes sense. You want this to work out.” He squeezed his hand. “You know it’s not the end of the world if it doesn’t though…right? It doesn’t mean you suck at comedy and it doesn’t mean you are a waste of space.”

“I know, I know,” Richie nodded, lacing their fingers together tight. “I just- I don’t know. I want this to work out so badly as it’s a huge thing but like…what if the reason I can’t get any jobs is because that asshole told everyone that I’m a terrible aggressive person to work with and that’s why no-one’s called me back-“

Just then, right at that moment, Richie’s phone lit up with an incoming call. Later, Eddie would totally say that it was fate finally giving Richie a break, but right then he just smiled and encouraged him to answer it. Richie did, sitting next to Eddie, their hands still laced together as he nodded and hummed along with whoever was on the other end.

“Really?” Richie breathed after a few moments. “That’s yes, yes of course. I am free whenever you need me. Okay, that’s- brilliant! Thank you so much!”

The call ended and Eddie waited with baited breath as Richie sat the phone down and ran a hand through his hair. “Who was it, Rich?”

“It- that was SNL…they loved my application and they want me to come in for an audition…tomorrow.”

As Eddie pulled Richie into a congratulatory kiss, he couldn’t help but think that it was shaping up to be a fantastic start to the new year.

* * * * * 

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs  @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between (formerly ‘The Ghost of You’) – Updated

@tinyarmedtrex @violetreddie @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

PSA: I changed the name of this fic. It was once ‘The Ghost of You’ but I don’t think that fit the story anymore, so I changed it. Hope that isn’t too confusing!

Chapter 4 - Nothing Ever Becomes Real Until It Is Experienced

Read on AO3 HERE

A stream of lava-hot water hit Richie’s back, waging a brutal war against the knotted muscles of his back.

“SHE’S ALL I NEED ALL OF MY LIFE!”

He rubbed the bar of ivory coloured soap between his hands, before rubbing the soapy lather over his chest.

“I FEEL SO GOOOOD IF I JUST SAY THE WOOOOOORD”

Turning around, Richie closed his eyes against the torrent of water, letting it rush over his face and chest, the soapy suds disappearing down the drain.

“ SUH-SUH-SUSSUDIO”

Richie opened his eyes, mouth still half open from where he’d been singing, and, as if he had always been there, Eddie’s disembodied head looked back at him from where it was sticking directly through the shower curtain.

“Richie! The lambs have come back down off the hills and – oh good lord, you’re naked!”

“JESUS FUCK!”

A primal scream tore its way out of Richie’s throat as he unceremoniously tumbled to the floor of the shower, clasping helplessly at the shower curtain as he fell. The curtain ripped from its fastenings, and floated to the ground gently. Richie grabbed at it, yanking it towards him to cover what was left of his modesty.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

Eddie was standing in the bathroom, looking scandalized but also very mildly amused.

“I’m ever so sorry, Richie!”

“The door was locked, how the hell did you even get in here?!” Richie demanded, feeling his face bloom with blush, caused not only by the scalding temperature of the water.

“I – I didn’t use the door”

Richie blinked, incredulous.

“You didn’t use the door” he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows, an invitation. ‘Explain yourself’.

“I haven’t used a door in seventy years, and I don’t intend on starting now!”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Eddie has his arms crossed in what Richie imagines is supposed to be indignation, a silent ‘I’ve been here longer than you, this is more my house than it ever will be yours.” Richie can’t help but feel a pang in his chest, something so close to affection it’s uncanny, a cloying kind of feeling that envelops his heart and holds it hostage.

Eddie breaks first.

“It really was an accident, Richie, I sort of forgot – I forgot about …” he trails off before he can say it, but Richie knows.

I forgot what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to spend time with another person.

Richie’s annoyance melts like snow.

– X –

The house is almost finished. Nearly all of the major appliances have been installed, the water runs perfectly, and the electrics have been wired and approved. The only major task facing Richie now was decorating, which was unfortunate because Richie had been cursed with perpetually shaky hands meaning that his lines were never straight or clean enough. He’d been complaining about it to Eddie one evening, sat out on the porch, wind rustling Richie’s hair like autumn leaves, but leaving Eddie’s untouched, each hair frozen in time and space.

Richie had fallen asleep outside, a combination of the lake’s lullaby-ripples, and the warmth of the balmy night. He’d slept deeply, watched over by the moon and the stars, and woken up with a crick in his neck and freezing hands.

Eddie was no-where to be seen, but Richie was unbothered. Eddie made a habit of wandering the moors at night, unbound by the mortal need to sleep, dream and recharge. He was free to roam as he saw fit, truly a being of the night, drifting amongst the dreaming lambs and the trees that stretched humbly towards the moon. He always returned, though. Returned to the house that he’d died in, and, by association, to Richie.

Richie hauled his heavy bones into the house, and up the rickety stair case, desperate to change out of the stale smelling clothes from the night before. He could hear the clanging of something metallic, and Eddie’s high and bright whistling, like a bell beckoning Richie into the room. When Richie cautiously pushed the door open, his mouth opened in shock.

While he slept, the summer sky had materialised on his bedroom walls. Fluffy marshmallow clouds on a cornflower blue sky.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the room, paintbrush in hand, looking somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up yet. You don’t normally wake up before 7 or so”

“Eddie what the hellllll” Richie drawled, eyes scanning the room in astonishment.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, eyes and voice earnest and so sugary sweet Richie couldn’t take it.

“I so wish I could hug you right now, this is fuckin’ torture, s’what it is. This is beautiful, Eds. It’s – I don’t have the words”

“Heh. The oven mitts are downstairs, so, I suppose … I’m glad you like it, though. I was worried you’d hate it and think that I’d over-stepped, or something”

“No! Not at all. It’s … thank you, Eddie. Seriously, thank you. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”

“I know you hate painting and I used to paint a bit, when I was, y’know, so … I thought I’d help you out a bit”

“You’ve done more than just help me out, Eds, yowza!”

Richie sincerely wished Eddie was wearing those damn oven gloves, as he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand and never let go.

– X –

The kitchen hated Richie, and, by all accounts, the feeling was pretty mutual. Laying a new floor down had been an absolute nightmare, considering the fact that the room was bizarrely shaped, so Richie had had to painstakingly cut each piece of timber out with a circle-saw to the exact measurements. This had taken longer than Richie cared to admit, but he had eventually finished, and the glossy oak floorboards smiled up at him, thanking him for his time and effort. Painting the kitchen was a breeze in comparison, throwing a white emulsion onto the walls before covering it with a blueish-grey, light and bright enough for a kitchen, but not an emotionless white. The back wall was the only one that was still just white emulsion, and Richie had planned to paint it grey in the afternoon.

That had been his plan, before he heard an almighty crash echo throughout the house, a metallic clang, and then a horrified yell.

“Eddie?! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie shouted, running down the stairs at light speed, expecting to find Eddie contorted in pain, or gone from the house entirely, or a number of equally as horrifying possibilities.

What he found when he rounded the corner, and burst into the kitchen, was blueish-grey paint covering practically every surface in the kitchen, and a very forlorn looking Eddie staring at the mess.

“What – What happened in here?!”

Eddie looked up at Richie with pleading, guilty eyes, wringing his hands together.

“I… I tried to walk through the wall carrying the paint and … Well, I suppose paint cannot travel through walls”

“What have I told you about using the effing doors!” Richie bellowed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to the door that he had just sprinted through.

His new floor, his expensive oak floorboards that he had laboured over for weeks, ruined. The oven had thankfully not been installed yet, and sat in its protective plastic packaging, but even that was splattered with paint. The clock was covered in paint. The gas stove that Richie had been using to cook was covered in paint. In short, everything was covered in a sheen of grey paint.

“I was trying to help,” Eddie mumbled, mouse-small, “You said you loved your new bedroom walls and I thought – I thought I’d save you some work because I know how much you hate painting and – I am a catastrophe”

Richie felt awful.

“Naw, Eds, you’re not. C’mon, it’s not that bad. I can get some white spirit on the floor, that’ll probably lift most of it, and maybe Mike will let me borrow his electric sander. Hey now, Eds, c’mon, you look like you’re going to cry, you’re killing me”

“I would cry if I could”

“Can you cry?”

“No, because if I could, I would be doing so now”

Richie opened one of the now grey kitchen drawers, and pulled out Eddie’s oven mitts. He passed them over to Eddie, who reluctantly slipped them onto his hands, the scrunch of concentration that Richie had grown so fond of etched onto his face.

“I’m gonna hold your hand now,” Richie announced, before taking Eddie’s hand in his, “I promise that I’m not mad with you. I’m just – I’m just a bit frustrated but it’s not the end of the world. Kitchens come and go but Eddie Spaghetti’s are forever”

“Is that a joke … because I am dead?” Eddie asked, voice hesitant but Richie watched as a smile formed on his face, slowly, like a flower opening to pray to the sun.  

“It wasn’t ‘sposed to be” Richie shrugged, hand still gripping onto Eddie’s mitted-hand tightly.

“Are you sure you’re not mad with me?”

“I promise”

– X –

One thing that Richie soon came to learn was that Eddie loved music. Richie often heard Eddie’s ethereal whistling echoing around the house, or heard him humming little ditty’s that Richie didn’t recognise. Sometimes Eddie sang properly, a surprisingly rich and strong tenor that stirred things in Richie’s heart that had been dormant for years.

One day, when Richie was sanding the grey paint off the floorboards in the kitchen and singing along to Higher Ground by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eddie’s voice announced his presence before Richie was even aware of him being in the room, a habit of Eddie’s that he was growing slowly used to.

“This music sounds so different to the kind of things I used to listen to when I was younger”

Richie turned off the electric sander, before turning the radio up, Anthony Kiedis’ voice booming out of the speaker. Eddie looked vaguely alarmed, before tapping the toe of his boot slightly, face screwed in concentration, as if he was sampling the music like wine, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the beat or not. Richie hopped around on alternate feet, pretending to slap an imaginary bass, his face screwed up in his best approximation of ‘bass face’. He wasn’t sure that Eddie would know what bass face was, but he didn’t care. Eddie watched Richie with wide, half-confused half-amused eyes, the toe of his left boot still tap-tap-tapping away to the beat.

The song drew to a close soon after, and Richie bounced over to the radio and turned it off.

“So, d’ya like it?”

“It’s … interesting. It’s different, absolutely, but … it’s good. It’s got a good beat, I like the rhythm. I … rather liked his voice,” Eddie stuttered, and Richie was sure that if it were possible for Eddie’s face to flush with embarrassment, it would be doing so right now, “but one thing I don’t understand is where you put the records in that tiny machine? Are records really tiny now?”

“Records? Why would there be records?” Richie asked as confusion washed over him in waves, before realising that Eddie had no idea what a twenty-first century radio looked like.

“Oh, no, this is a radio, not a record player. Some people still use records, but those people are called ‘hipsters’ and you wouldn’t like them. But this is a radio, you know what a radio is, right?”

“Yes, Richard, I know what a radio is. I wasn’t born 700 years ago” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’. So you know how radios work, right? Like … the music is in the air? Radio waves and all that jazz?”

“The music is in the air?!” Eddie spluttered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“I thought you said you knew what radios were?!”

“Well, I know what they are, I never professed to know how they work”

Richie can’t help but laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face, a picture of exasperation mixed with confusion, and he is semi-horrified by the realisation that he wants to kiss it off Eddie’s face.

Well that’s new.

Richie tries to squash all ghost-kissing desires deep into his brain into a box marked ‘bad idea’ but he knows that that box has a habit of refusing to remain closed and springing open unexpectedly.

In his desperation to sway his attention from Eddie’s grumpy, kissable face, Richie cranks the radio up even further, switching the station to the all-day 80s bangers station he’d found a few weeks ago. Bonnie Tyler’s voice filtered out of the speakers, and Richie lip-synced along with her as she lamented about the fact that she didn’t have a street-wise Hercules. Eddie watched as if transfixed, eyes following the minutia of Richie’s movements but standing on the side lines, not joining in Richie’s one-man dance party.

“Dance with me!” Richie yelled, waving his arms erratically in the air as Bonnie’s voice howled around the room.

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

“I can’t!”

“YOU CAN!” Richie practically screamed, “dance with me, Eds! Please!”

Richie’s pestering finally broke Eddie’s resolve, and just as the song peaked, Eddie started to dance.

Now it was Richie’s turn to gawp.

Eddie threw himself around the room wildly, feet a blur as he alternated between rhythmic walking, jumping and kicking his feet , whilst waving his arms in a jaunty swing, occasionally snapping his fingers or clapping his hands in time with the music.

“You’ve been holding out on me, you sneak! Look at you go!” Richie yelled over the music, hardly moving, just watching Eddie spin and twist and jump.

“I may or may not have been quite the accomplished swing dancer when I was … y’know …” Eddie gasped, mid spin.

“I fuckin’ bet you were! Look at your fancy feet!”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Eddie laughed, performing a particularly complicated piece of footwork, and peeking up at Richie with his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Damn straight, look at us, a couple-a movers and shakers, but damn, Eds, you shake it the best. You gotta teach me.”

Eddie laughed as he span past Richie, and Richie followed him, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips in a way that he assumed looked ridiculous, but the way Eddie’s eyes lingered on the swivel of his hips suggested otherwise.

The song finished, and a slow ballad started to play – all slow, smooth guitar and mellow vocals.

Richie, gasping from exertion, stopped dancing, and so did Eddie, who looked exactly the same as he always did, not a hair or piece of fluff out of place.

“How do we dance to this one? It’s a bit slow, Rich”

An idea crashed into Richie’s brain at warp speeds.

“Hang on”

Richie disappeared downstairs, and returned clasping Eddie’s oven mitts in his hands.

“Put these on” Richie instructed Eddie, like he always did, and once Eddie had put the mitts on, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“We gotta slow dance to songs like this, them’s the rules”

“Uh … but we’re both … you aren’t a … I’m not a woman”

“I won’t tell if you won’t”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t move his hands, either. Knowing that he couldn’t put his hands on Eddie’s waist like he wanted to, Richie settled for placing his hands over Eddie’s mitts, on his shoulders. They swayed back and forth.

“Are you like me?” Eddie whispered, voice barely loud enough for Richie to hear over the music.

“Depends what you mean by that, Spaghetti. Am I dead? No. Am I a wicked dancer? Yes. You gotta be more specific”

“You are a brute! You know exactly what I mean”

“Do you mean ‘do I fall in love with men’?”

Eddie hesitated for a second, before nodding the affirmative.

“Then yes, I am like you. But I also fall in love with women. I like ‘em both. Greedy like that”

“Is that … is that possible?”

“Sure is, sugar!”

Eddie closed his eyes, and Richie was sure that if Eddie could cry, this would be another occasion where he would be doing so.

“I only … I only fall in love with men. I had – Rupert. We – he died. I never got to say goodbye”

A heavy sort of sadness settled in the room. Eddie’s eyes, downcast and lidded, refused to meet Richie’s. They stood in the middle of the room, touching but not really, dancing but not really, in silence.

“I hate that I can’t hold you, Eddie”

“I hate that you can’t hold me, too”

– X –

Something changed after they danced together. Not a seismic shift, but a small tremor. Eddie told Richie about Rupert, and how they’d lived together in relative sin, and as he spoke, he’d screwed up his face as if willing himself to cry, to feel something. Richie cried enough for the both of them.

A few days later, it was a lazy Sunday, and Richie is listening to a local Scottish radio station sat out on the porch with Eddie in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are for the afternoon, but I’m off to have a lovely roast dinner!” the radio host announces, before signing off for the day.

“Oh, I do miss a roast dinner” Eddie announces wistfully, rubbing at his stomach comically.

“What’s a roast dinner?”

“You’ve never had a roast dinner?!”

“Uh… no? Should I have? What is it?”

Eddie abruptly stands up, and walks back into the house, listing off all the components of a roast dinner as he walks. When they get to the kitchen, Eddie marches straight over to the fridge and, without opening it, sticks his head right through the door, before also sticking his left hand straight through the metal, as if the fridge was not a solid object at all. Richie is sure that there will never be a day that he doesn’t find that unbelievably funny.

“You have all the vegetables, but the only meat you have is … this!” Eddie pulls his head back through the fridge door, looking at his hand triumphantly, only to find that his hand is empty.

“I keep forgetting I cannot move things through other solid objects” Eddie deadpans, smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

Richie cackles at him, before moving to open the fridge himself, and seeing a lonely looking peperami lying on the bottom of the fridge. With Eddie’s help, Richie manages to cook the roast dinner without too much issue. The only time Eddie screeches at him is when he pours way too much oil into the roasting pan for the potatoes, but that issue is quickly rectified. After a few hours, the meal is prepared, and Richie plates up feeling overwhelmingly guilty that Eddie can’t share in the meal that he helped to prepare. Eddie assures him that he doesn’t miss eating that much, and ushers Richie into the dining room, where the new dining table stands proudly in the middle of the room. Richie places his plate on the table, before realising that he’d forgotten cutlery and a glass of water. Eddie, who had been standing behind his chair, follows him into the kitchen, walking straight through the table, and babbling nonsense about how Richie was about to experience something truly magical.

When Richie returned to the dining table, he found that his food was now burnt beyond recognition, the fresh vegetables that had been lying on his plate mere seconds ago now transformed into a smoky black sludge.

“What in God’s name …” Richie muttered, staring at the burnt food in disbelief as the cutlery slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Richie looks at Eddie, then back to the ruined food on his plate, then back to Eddie. Without saying anything, he ran back into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of broccoli, before charging back into the living room and throwing the broccoli directly at Eddie’s head.

The broccoli fell to the floor.

Or, more accurately, the broccoli that was now a black, burnt sludge fell to the floor.

“For fucks sake!”

– X –

Richie stays up late that night, sleepy eyes glued to his computer, scrolling through useless website after useless website before he lands on the first thing that looks even remotely promising 16 pages into the google search.

Stanley Uris – Corporeal Reanimator

[beepbeeprichiellc]

reddie & 3 please?

3. teacher/student au

Richie hated this.

He hated this stupid community center with its stupid brick walls and uplifting posters. All the people shuffling around with their kind greetings and welcoming smile. It was a downer, forcing Richie to put his busy schedule on hold just to fulfill a promise he had to his best friend who had a crush on the instructor. Despite his best effort he had been cornered, and now here he was sitting on a chair that put a kink in his back and an headache between his temples.

“Don’t look so happy.” Ben sarcastically said, rolling his eyes and pulling out his notebook. “You’re going to like this, it’s a new skill that you can use all your life and-”

“It’s a sewing class.” Richie cut, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the exit. “You know how to sew, I’ve seen it.”

“It’s the advanced course.”

Before Richie could slap back the classroom door opened, but instead of the lush amazing woman that Ben so fondly described, in stepped a short man with a loosened tie and frowning face. With feather like hair that fell into his eyes-long past due for a cut-and freckles dusted along his cheeks and nose Richie swooned. He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. It was like looking into the face of an angle and because of that Richie was sure he had died on the spot. Sitting up a little straighter he ignored the slouched disappointment from the friend beside him. With a tightened stomach and focused heart he awaited for the man to speak.

“Miss Marsh is not going to be in today so I will be covering her class.” The man muttered under his breath, clearly not amused with the commitment. “Lucky for her my class ran long and she was able to catch me before I was able escape home so here I am.” There was a small hand gesture, and Richie could feel his lips curl into a smile. “My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I am your substitute. I was told by Miss Marsh that you all have your assignments and should-”

Richie spaced out, watching the teachers lips move but not hearing a single thing. All that filled his ears was his beating heart, it sepaking all the things he thought had been lost long ago. People moved around him, Ben tugging on his arm and gaining what little attention span Richie possesed.

“We can just go, I’m all caught up with the assignment.”

“What? No.” Richie sputtered, snapping back into place like a rubber band. “We can’t go.”

“Why not? You hate it-” Ben stopped noticing that his friend was still watching the teacher as he took the seat behind Miss Marsh’s desk. “O-Oh, now I get it.” A shit eating grin growing along his face making Richie scowl. “The tables sure have turned huh?”

“Go talk to him and find out if he’s single.” Richie half asked, half demanded earning a snort. “Come on, I came to this class to be your wing man so return the favor!”

“I’ve been asking you to come to class for three weeks, so-” He rapped his fingers on the desk, packing up his notebook and leaving Richie hanging by a thread. “In three weeks.”

“Wow. That’s harsh Hanscom.”

“An eye for an eye Tozier.” He hummed, standing from the table and turing to leave only to be stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.

Richie looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Ben repeated, raising an eyebrow. Gulping down the inevitable guilt that would come from this decision Richie nodded, making his best friend sigh. “Alright, just stay here.”

Richie did as he was told, watching Ben as he walked up to the desk and casually struck up a conversation with Mr. Kaspbrak, who at first looked like he wanted nothing to do with him. After a few back and forths the teacher smiled, extending his hand out for Ben to shake. A nervous itch began to crawl its way up his spine, settling at the base of his skull. Ben pointed to him, and not knowing what to do he awkwardly waved immediately regretting it when Mr. Kaspbrak full on laughed.

Now, Richie had never been the type to have problems with relationship. That was Ben, not the smooth talking trashmouth who once talked a woman into blowing him as he did his daily radio show. And yet there was something different about this teacher, something that made him all giddy and weird like he was thirteen again. After what felt like forever Ben came walking back, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“Well?” Richie pressed, glancing back to Mr. Kaspbrak, who now busied himself with a book. “What did he say.”

“He said that Beverly likes me and is currently at the bar across the street hating that she had to miss class.” Excitement seeped out of every pour, making Richie slightly jealous. “I guess he is her wingman. Small world.”

Although happy for his friend he needed to know the rest of the conversation. “Okay but what did he say about me?”

“Oh if you wanted to actually talk to him you need to take his class, he said his time isn’t free.” Ben laughed, “I like him.”

Richie gaped, one hundred percent over this bullshit and already thinking of a way to get the teacher to spend a little one and one time with him. If he had to take a stupid community center class than so be it, it would be worth it in the end.  “Well what the fuck does he teach?”

“Ethics..”

“Aw fuck.”

[your-old-enemy]

Pick It Up

Note: Yes, this was inspired by the poem in ‘You’ that Beck writes as a thank you to Joe, but the story is completely different so give me a chance.

Warning: Cheating, but it might be all good in the end. Also, this is complete trash I haven’t written anything in forever and a toddler was climbing on me while I tried to write this disaster.

Tagging: @tinyarmedtrex @tozierbinch and @androovanwyngarden bc reddie

Engine, engine number nine

On the New York transit line

If your love falls on the tracks

Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up

February 14, 2016

“Eds, baby, please, you know it’s not like that!”

“This is the last time you lie to me, Richie.”

Richie was desperately trying to calm Eddie down, to have him sit down instead of walking around their apartment packing his things into a backpack. Eddie, however, was on a mission to get his shit and get the hell out of there as fast as he could - he couldn’t look at Richie right now and he definitely didn’t want to be anywhere near him. For months, Richie had lied right to his face without even showing a hint of remorse for what he was doing. He’d never really had to work late, he didn’t actually go to meetings, or dinner parties, no, he wasn’t doing any of that, instead he was dropping his pants and fucking his boss without even thinking about Eddie, the life they’d built together or the future Eddie had thought they’d planned to share with one another.

“Please, just let me explain,” Richie begged, reaching out for Eddie’s hand but it was tugged out of his hold the second he caught it and Eddie looked at him disgust, but under that Richie could see his heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces right there on their living room floor.

“Stop begging like a dog, Richie!” Eddie spat furiously at his boyfriend, blinking the tears from his eyes as fast as he could. “Or are you going to drop to your knees for me this time?”

Richie knew that he deserved it, of course he did. He willingly slept with someone else, and not just once. He’d believed that he could get away with it until he didn’t have to do it anymore - until he got to the top - but Eddie caught him red handed. Eddie only wanted to surprise Richie at work on Valentines Day with a picnic but instead he had found him bending his boss over a desk and it made him sick.

Eddie finally had all of his things together, and he walked to the door, but as he reached for the handle, Richie’s words stopped him in his tracks.

“Please don’t leave me like this.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just reached into his pocket and set the little black box on the small table by the door, and then he left without looking back.

February 14, 2019

Every year since his last one with Richie, Eddie spent the romantic holiday alone, drinking himself into a deep sleep that would leave him with a pounding behind his eyes the next morning. Normally, he would do it at home, but this year his friends had decided to make it a group event and come together to celebrate the love they all had for each other. Eddie was happy to spend the time with all of his friends at once, so he’d gotten there early with Bev and Ben and they’d started drinking while they waited for the others. Stan and Mike were next to arrive, hugging the other three in greeting as their drinks were brought to the table. Eddie was watching the door every few minutes, waiting for Bill and Audra. When they walked in he smiled brightly at the two of them and waved them over to the table, but he dropped his hand and his smile when he saw who walked into the bar behind them. Richie.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected Richie to be there, but he’d just assumed since nobody had mentioned it to him that the Trashmouth would have other plans tonight.

Eddie turned to ask one of the others what was going on, but Stan spoke before he could ask.

“It’s been three years, Eddie. We can’t choose between the two of you anymore. We love you both.”

Eddie scoffed at Stan’s words. That was so easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one who’d had his heart broken. Eddie knew that he could run, he had to see the night through and try to save face but he absolutely refused to talk to Richie, for the first two hours he didn’t even look at him as the group ate and drank together.

Four hours in, and Eddie was so hammered he couldn’t see straight. He was good at hiding just how drunk he was, though, always able to look put together and presentable. He watched Richie dancing with Bev, badly, to a song he didn’t recognise and all he wanted to do was go home.

He found Mike and informed him that he was leaving.

“Eddie, I don’t think you should go anywhere alone.” Mike said to Eddie with a frown.

Eddie waved off Mike’s concern. “I swear, I’m good. I’ll text you when I get home safe, yeah?”

Mike looked like he wanted to argue or have one of the others back him up here, but Eddie was stubborn and the others were all busy so he relented and let him go.

——

Richie had been throwing Bev around the dance floor when he saw Eddie leave. He’d been planning to talk to him all night and now he was about to miss his chance, so he ditched Bev and ran after him but Eddie was already down the block and Richie saw his head disappearing down into the subway.

Looking both ways as he moved, Richie crosses the road and followed Eddie down onto the almost-empty subway platform. The only other person down there was a homeless man propped up against one of the big tile pillars singing a song off-tune to himself.

“Eddie!” Richie called out, watching his small, drunk ex-boyfriend swaying back and forth on the edge of the platform while fumbling with his phone. “Eddie!” He called again when he was ignored.

“Go ‘way, Richard!” Eddie called back, shaking his phone with a frown as he tried to get the keyboard to cooperate with his drunk thumbs.

“Eds, come on-“

“Don’t call me that, for fuck sake.”

“Alright, Alright, Eddie. Come on, I’m sorry. Just let me take you home, please? You’re too drunk - would you please come back from the edge before-“

Eddie tried to whirl around, ready to yell at Richie to leave him the hell alone but he lost his balance and fell backward into the tracks. He curled up in the foetal position and groaned at the dull ache pulsing in his hip.

Richie rushed to the edge and leaned over, laying on his stomach to hold his obscenely long arm out to Eddie.

“Don’t move!” He told Eddie. “Most of that shit down there will fry you alive, just reach up and take my hand!”

Eddie looked ahead into the tunnel, the light shining through from the rapidly approaching the platform.

“Train is coming..” Eddie slurred.

The homeless man behind Richie was singing even louder now, and more off key, repeating the same line over and over again.

“Pick it up!” He yelled aimlessly. “Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!”

“Sir, could you please shut the fuck up?!” Richie yelled frantically to the stranger before looking back down at Eddie. “Eddie, come on. Take my hand. Take it. Come on, I’ll pull you up!”

“Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!”

At the last second, Eddie took Richie’s hand and Richie pulled him up onto the platform, rolling away from the edge and stopped on his back with Eddie on top of him. As the train sped past, the two of them just laid there looking into one another’s eyes as the gust of wind messed up their hair and ruffled their shirts.

“Are you ok-“

Eddie cut Richie off by throwing up right in his face.

——

Richie didn’t hear directly from Eddie for the rest of the weekend, but the other Losers kept him posted to let him know that thanks to him Eddie was alright but a little shaken up from his near-death experience. Richie hasn’t slept all that much, nightmares of ‘pick it up’ and Eddie being splattered all over the tracks running through his head whenever he closed his eyes, but he carried on with work.

Today’s segment on the radio station was a short story or poem entry contest. Some people called in, others tweeted and some emailed. The best of the best were put through for Richie to air.

“Alright folks,” Richie spoke as the song playing ended. “This next one is a little poem, from Anonymous.” After a beat, he read it aloud. “Engine, engine, number nine on the New York transit line. If your love falls on the tracks, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up.”

As he hit play on the next song, his phone rang in his pocket. Pulling it out quickly, he was shocked to see Eddie’s name on the screen but he answered the call.

“Eddie?”

“I know it probably won’t win the gift-basket prize, but I hope you liked it. I call it ‘Pick it Up’” Eddie said with a nervous laugh.

“You wrote it.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement from Richie.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night.. you saved my life.”

“Anybody would have-“

“No, they wouldn’t. You followed me out there, if you hadn’t I’d be dead.”

Richie sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to calm his pounding heart.

“Are you free after work?” He eventually asked, and he heard Eddie smile through the phone.

“I get off a half hour after your show ends.”

“Coffee?”

“I’ll be there.”

Richie definitely planned to pick his love up and never let go again.